Greenwood The Great
by Elen-Silver Star
Summary: A collection of moments of the lives of Mirkwood's royal family. Set before 'Elerrina' and 'Almarëa'
1. Amused

The golden rays of Sunlight brightened the clear blue summer's sky, washing down peacefully over the green leaves of the forests of Mirkwood, and reflecting especially beautifully on the many colors of the flowers that inundated the Palace Gardens. Overall, the day had proven to be a slow relaxing day for King Thranduil as he peacefully made his way through the intricate labyrinth of trees and flowers back to the Palace.

He wore a plain- for a King's standard- elegant light blue tunic, its delicate silver embroidery almost unnoticeable as they traced complex patterns of leaves. There had been no council to attend that day, nor had there been any meeting for negotiations of any kind, and thus he had gladly taken the opportunity to be freed of the long formal robes he usually wore. His long light blond hair fell loosely down his back and nearly to his waist, no crown resting on his head. He knew he would eventually need to have it properly braided and combed for dinner, but he decided that that could wait a couple of more hours.

Dinner. The sole thought of it made the golden sunrays of the bright summer's day turn to grey clouds in a stormy sky. The report form the patrols over the last two weeks had informed about an unusual increase in orcs roaming near the borders. His past two weeks had been spent on his study strategizing patrol routes and schedules and, as if the long sessions in his study were not enough, his two closest advisors had a special affinity for bringing up the topic at the dinner table. He was certainly tired of having his sacred joyful mealtime used as a council meeting. On the bright side, at least at dinner there was wine.

He shook his head lightly, forcing his thoughts in a different direction as he stepped into yet another garden. Unlike the other ones, this one already had an occupant, a Lady, he noticed, although he did not pay much attention to her.

"My Lady." He greeted her politely, nodding his head curtly in acknowledgement. His tone was short, his serene voice silently indicating that he wanted no conversation. He absently noticed that she looked up from the book that had been sitting on her lap, but he kept walking, heading back towards the Palace.

"Well, it was about time you came. I have been waiting here for almost an hour." He heard her voice saying just as he had taken the first steps into the garden.

At first he thought she must have been talking to someone else, but a quick scan around the garden told him that there was no one else but him. He turned on his heels to face her, a fair eyebrow raised questioningly. Waiting for what? No one had informed him he was expected to be somewhere at this moment. And yet, what puzzled him the most what the casual and informal tone with which she had addressed him. Did he know her from somewhere?

"Pardon me?" He replied politely, standing tall and royal, almost expecting her to realize that she had most certainly mistaken him for someone else.

The Lady however did not look at all confused. She was young, he noticed, and she was definitely beautiful. As he stared at her, paying her attention for the first time, he was completely sure that he had never met this Lady before. Large emerald eyes stared back at him, the color of the forest, soft and kind, and at the same time so impenetrable, her gaze steady. He could not make out what was going through her head, but she looked at him directly in the eyes, her head held high, shoulders back underneath her flawless strands of golden hair, which cascaded long down her back. She held an aura of authority that for a split second made him doubt his own. Where was her respect and humility in the presence of her King?

"Are you not the ellon my father said he would send to show me around the Palace?" Her voice was refined, musical, carrying the same authority as her posture. Nothing in her expression or in the tone of her voice sounded impolite or unkind. No. But it certainly implied a sense of superiority over him, the way a Lady gently asks a servant for a glass of wine.

His eyebrow arched further. The ellon her father had sent? Who was her father? He contained his lips from curving up in a mocking smile as he clearly realized that she had no idea who he was. She was in for a surprise. Addressing him in such manner, and in _his _gardens.

It did not take him long to guess that this stunning Lady must be the daughter of one of the respected retired warriors of old times that chose to reside within his borders but beyond the Mirkwood gates, in the tranquility of the forest. He had, in many occasions offered them to reside in his own Palace, but many of them had refused, choosing the peaceful company of the trees. They had come to the Palace to further discuss the safety of his lands.

"My apologies, my Lady, but you mistake me for someone else." He had to make an effort not to smirk at her ignorance, remaining polite and calmed. She had never seen him before, so why should she have known who he was. He was aware that he was not dressed like the King of Mirkwood.

The Lady's eyebrows shot up in response, her flawless face looking slightly embarrassed by her mistake, although not looking any less superior. "Forgive me, my Lord."

He nodded his head lightly, accepting her apology, and his attention was drawn back to her large green eyes, looking at him so steadily, directly in the eyes. He had to admit that she was probably the most beautiful maiden he had yet seen. He decided that he would introduce himself. It would be impolite not to do so, especially since she was staying in his Palace. It did not reflect well on a King to ignore his guests.

"I am Thranduil, King of the Greenwood." He said in the traditional elven greeting, offering her a king smile. "Can I be of any help?"

To his surprise, she raised a delicate eyebrow in disbelief, staring at him for a long moment, taking in his entire appearance. For the first time that day, the Elvenking wished he had worn his long formal robes. He tried his best to mask his obvious bewilderment from showing on his face as he felt her eyes carefully studying him. Then, her large green eyes lifted to meet his once more, a mocking smile present on her gorgeous lips as her emerald irises sparkled playfully.

"And I am Galadriel, Lady of Lothlorien. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, your Majesty." Her tone was light, openly mocking him, as if she though he had been playing a game on her. He could not contain a light laugh from escaping his lips. She had not believed him!

"Lies are not befitting a Lady like you." He said in the same mocking tone, taking some few steps in her direction. He had never been more amused in his life. "I _am_ King Thranduil, my Lady."

She rose from the elegant bench she had been sitting on, every single of her movements like a flawless dance. To his surprise, she walked in his direction, her green eyes now looking slightly bored. Yes. _Bored. _She showed no signs that she believed him. In fact, she looked as if she was not interested in his 'lie', slightly annoyed, although never once did she behave improperly or impolitely.

"Fine, my Lord." The sarcastic tone of her voice made his confusion grow larger. Her voice was kind, never rude, and yet it carried the slight tone with which one addresses a lying child, as if she was letting him believe whatever he wanted. He had never been more confused. More so, he had never _looked_ more confused.

"Now, if you would excuse, _Your Majesty_, I will head back inside. And my apologies for the misunderstanding." She added, emphasizing his title, offering him another one of her flawless smiles. "_I_ have been invited to dine at the _real_ King's table tonight, and I would not want to be late."

His grin only grew larger on his face, a fine eyebrow raised in bewilderment. Who was the one lying now? A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he just stared at her. He knew for a fact that he had not invited anyone to dine at his table that night. The entire situation resulted simply too amusing for him. She was entirely unaware that her attempt to show off was failing miserably, for her lie had been easily caught without her having the slightest idea. She thought he was merely one of the many elves that resided and worked at the Palace.

As if things had not been entertaining enough, she gracefully waltzed in his direction, her head held high, even though he was nearly an entire head taller, and handed him the book she had been reading moments before. He was too confused to know what he was doing, and he found himself taking the book in his hands without even noticing.

"Would you be so kind as to take this back to the library for me?" She flashed another one of her perfect smiles, not waiting for an answer before she walked away form him, back in the direction of the majestic Palace.

He stood there for a moment, his mind trying to understand what had happened. He was very well aware that his face must have looked entirely stunned, speechless. He quickly shook his head, once again controlling his expression before deciding to head back into the Palace with as much dignity as he could muster. He walked tall, as royal and serene as always, although his mind remained entirely baffled.

He climbed the few steps into the ample terrace of the Private Quarters, his mind still pondering on the strange encounter. Two of his guards bowed politely as he passed, and he handed the book to one of them, without even turning to look. The guard immediately took it, his eyes betraying his puzzlement.

"Take this back to the library." He instructed absently, and saw the guard nod his head out of the corner of his eye.

The Elvenking silently made his way to his chambers, nearly oblivious to the bows and greetings he received from the elves that passed by him. As expected, a welcoming fire already danced in his large fireplace, vividly illuminating the overlay large and elegant chambers. Thranduil was not surprised to find a familiar figure already waiting for him inside his chambers, standing quietly in one corner.

"Did you have a nice walk, my Lord?" The elegant blond advisor inquired with a smile, only managing to receive a light chuckle in return. "A bath is ready for you, my Lord."

"Thank you, Doronor." He replied with a nod of his head, looking straight into the dark blue eyes of his closest friend and advisor.

Letting his ice blue eyes wonder about the familiar room, the Elvenking noticed that his dinner robes had already been laid out for him, as well as his crown and intricate hairpieces. He let out a light chuckle as he thought of the maiden in the gardens who had wanted him to believe that she would be sitting at the King's- _his_- table that night. If only she knew how amusing her lie had resulted to him.

"Doronor." He found himself saying calmly, unable co contain a smirk as a new idea popped into his mind. "The warriors have already arrived at the Palace, have they not? Do you know if any Ladies came with them?"

His friend raised an eyebrow at him, and Thranduil threw him a look that meant he was to answer his question without further comments.

"Yes, Agarben and his family arrived late this morning. His brother Lasgaer also came with him, as well as his wife and daughter." Doronor informed, and although he did not voice any questions, his gleaming dark blue eyes implied them silently.

So he had been right in his assumptions. The maiden must then be Lasgaer's daughter. He knew both elves briefly. He had met with them previously, but many years ago. He had also met all three sons of Agarben, as well as Lasgaer's firstborn son, who had died in battle some years ago, leaving him only with a daughter.

"I see." He said absently as he made his way towards the bathing chambers, eager to step into the warm soothing water. "Invite them to dine at my table tonight."

Oh, that Lady would be surprised when she found that she would be dining at his table after all. He heard Doronor chuckle, shaking his head lightly before answering him.

"As you wish, my Lord." The advisor's words were respectful, the way and advisor speaks to his King, and yet the gleam in his dark blue eyes and grin on his face were those of a friend, teasing him.

"Thranduil, may I ask what are you planning?" Doronor finally asked, transforming from his advisor to his friend. It was nothing unusual for the blond advisor to call his King casually by his first name in private settings. The Elvenking turned around to face his friend, an equal grin present in his fair ageless face.

"I am merely going to amuse myself tonight, my friend."

He heard Doronor letting out another light laugh, but he did not turn to look again, walking into the bathing chambers as he heard his friend leaving the room silently.

Night had already fallen in the vast forests of Mirkwook, and the Elvenking found himself in his rich formal robes, the color of the golden earth, embroidered in gold thread and emeralds. The crown of silver leaves rested neatly over his head, his long light blond hair had been perfectly combed and braided. He looked royal, walking tall and graceful through the hallways of his Palace, his long robes flowing behind him as he made his way to the large dining room where his guest already waited. But he did not dread the meal this particular night. No. Dinner tonight would be most entertaining.

Two guards bowed respectfully at him as he reached the large pair of wooden doors that led into the dinning room, and he nodded his head curtly. He heard his arrival being announced as one of the guards carefully opened one of the doors for him to step into the large room.

He walked patiently, as he always did, to the throne-like chair placed specifically him at the head of the long table. His guests had risen to their feet, as was customary, bowing their heads respectfully. But it was none of this what made a wide smile appear on his lips. No. He was used to this kind of treatment.

On this particular night, the victorious smile on his face was ignited by one particular elf inside the room. He had no trouble in finding her, sitting only a couple of spaces to his right. Her stunning green eyes widened as they fell on his, immediately recognizing him, and for a split second she looked mortified, lowering her gaze to her plate. She looked so embarrassed it was endearing.

"Thank you for joining me tonight." He greeted his guests with a smile, motioning elegantly with a hand for them to sit just as he lowered himself to his chair. The moment he was sitting down, wine was served on every glass of cut crystal, and a gentle conversation started to flow along the long table.

He discretely directed his gaze in the direction of the golden haired Lady, only to find her staring deeply into her wine, as if it was the most interesting thing she had seen in a long time. She had not dared to lift her gaze, looking small in the crowd of finely dressed elves at his table. His advisors and other high elves that resided at the Palace had also joined him for dinner, as they customarily did. And yet, even as she tried to make herself small, her pure beauty called the attention of any looking eye. She was dressed elegantly, but plainly, and for a moment he was overly glad that she was not wearing any of the fine jewelry the Ladies in Mirkwood usually wore, otherwise he would not have been able to take his eyes from her. Oh, she would make the jewels look plain.

"Thank you for such a kind invitation, my Lord." Lasgaer said to his right, and he directed his serene ice blue eyes in his direction. The golden haired elf was older than him, and he knew that the respected warrior had fought next to his own father, Oropher, in battle.

"The pleasure is mine." He added politely with a smile, taking a sip of his wine. "Tell me, Lord Lasgaer, how do you fare?"

The golden haired elf proceeded to talk about his life and his family, and Thranduil took advantage of the situation to spare one more discrete glance in the direction of the beautiful Lady. He had to make an effort to appear interested in Lasager's words as he tried not to laugh at the stunning daughter of the warrior who still remained with her eyes fixed on her wine. She had had not trouble whatsoever in looking at him directly in the eye some hours ago, standing tall and proud. It seemed that her bravery had suddenly disappeared.

For the first time in his life, the Elvenking felt very well aware and thankful for the grandeur and richness of his dinning room. From the thin delicate columns that opened up like golden branches high above their heads to support the roof, to the many silver plates replete with fruits, pastries and exquisite dishes on his table. Everything about the place seemed to impress the gorgeous Lady, whose eyes kept trying to take in every detail while avoiding looking in his direction, fixing on her plate every two seconds.

He returned his ice blue eyes in the direction of Lasgaer, easily pretending that he had been listening to all that he had said. The King of Mirkwood took yet another sip of his wine as the warrior's wife added something to her husband's tale, although he did not quite hear what.

"Is this your wife?" Thranduil inquired casually, motioning with a graceful movement of the hand to the Lady he very well knew was the warrior's wife.

"Yes, my Lord" Lasgaer answered with a wide smile on his face. "This is my wife, Laessel. And have you met my daughter?"

The gorgeous green-eyed Lady lifted her eyes in his direction for the time, unable to make her presence ignored any longer. Her emerald eyes met his as he nodded his head politely, not able to help another wide smile form showing on his face at her mortified and embarrassed expression.

"Oh, yes. I met her briefly in the gardens this afternoon." He commented casually, allowing his gaze to once again fall on the stunning Lady's face. She met his eyes out of obligation, looking scared of what he might say. "Although, I did not catch your name, my Lady."

He addressed her formally, just as he would address any of the other elves sitting at the long elegant table, humoring himself with this proper conversation after the radically informal way in which she had addressed him in the gardens.

"I am Alarya, my Lord. And forgive me, but I also did not catch your name. Would you remind me?" She introduced herself, the way one respectfully introduces himself to a stranger, only her forest green eyes making fun of all the elves at the table, ignorant of their pretention. And it was at that moment, when she said her name, that the Lady allowed her eyes to meet his directly once more, holding his gaze with the same steadiness and pride she had stared at him in the gardens. A beautiful smile lightened her face, contrary to what he had expected her reaction would be. To his surprise, she no longer looked embarrassed or angered, as he had anticipated. No. She looked _amused_. And in that split second he understood that she was humoring him in the same way he was humoring her. Oh, yes. Dinner tonight would be most entertaining.

So this is a new story I am trying on. Please let me know what you think, or if you think I should continue it.

Love,

Elena


	2. Pinecones

Bright shimmering colors and all kinds of exquisite jewels sparkled inside the King's Halls, replete with jovial elves, all of them dressed in their finest robes and dresses. A harmonious waltz tuned in the background, nearly lost in the song of a thousand conversations merging together into a single unintelligible tune. It was cold outside, the Moon shining in pale silver over the empty dark gardens, but here, inside the largest halls of the Palace, the air had never been more warm and welcoming.

It had been close to a year since the last time Alarya had been inside the majestic walls of the Palace, and the sight of the grand winter's solstice celebration fascinated her more than nearly anything she had seen. She had attended this celebration a couple of times before, but she had been no more than an elfling at that time, thus everything had looked incredibly different at the time. Since the unexpected and devastating death of her older brother, her family had chose to stay away from such grand events, her parents no longer in the mood for celebrations during long years, and she had chosen to stay with them to offer her company.

This year, however, she had not been able to find it in herself to stay at home. No. This year she had convinced her parents to attend the celebration, nearly dragging them all the way to the Palace for this specific night. She had claimed that she longed to see the magnificent building once more, after how much she had adored it on their last visit ten months ago. But that had only been a fragment of reasons for coming. Yes. The reason she had wanted to come on this particular night to this particular celebration was currently sitting at the head of the highest table, wearing rich and elegant royal blue robes.

The King of Mirkwood sat tall and regal on his throne like chair, yet oblivious to her presence in the Halls. He held a cut crystal glass of deep red wine in his hand, sipping from it absently as he spoke with the elf to his left. He had not turned his head in her direction once. But she did not really care. Alarya was not even sure if she wanted his attention or not, she merely wanted to see the grand sight of this celebration with her own eyes. She wanted to see _him_ in this grand celebration. Curious to get another glimpse at him, so royal and powerful, and at the same time so serene and composed.

She had met the mighty and respected Elvenking for the first time ten months ago, when she had mistaken him for someone else in the gardens of the Palace. He had acted gracious about it – as he seemed to do about everything – and it had not taken her long to figure out who he was. Really, no other elf in the entire realm had eyes so piercing and powerful as his silent ice blue eyes, no other elf walked as gracefully and royally as he did.

Truth is, she had been so embarrassed that she had not wanted to admit she had not been able to recognize her King, and thus, when he introduced himself she faked that she did not believe him. What a surprise she got when he invited her to dine at his table and there he was, the King of Mirkwood in all of his glory, amusing himself at her expense. Oh, yes. That dinner had been the most amusing one she had ever attended. She had not seen him afterwards, and was left with the urging curiosity of throwing another glance at this mighty personage.

"Who are you staring at, Alarya?" Her older cousin, Aerdan, said from her left, his smirking green eyes searching through in the direction her eyes had been looking. She immediately turned her eyes to meet his, before he could trace the line of her gaze.

"No one" She lied perfectly, sounding casual as she tasted yet another sip of the exquisite wine. "Just overlooking the celebration, it is breathtaking."

"Mhm. And what is the _'celebration's'_ name?" Her cousin's eyes mocked her, an eyebrow raised high in a playful expression, as if he had not believed her in the slightest.

"Aerdan!" She scolded him, unable to contain a grin from appearing on her face. Oh, her cousins. The three most carefree elves she had ever met. All three of them older than her.

"Who is breathtaking?" Her other cousin, Agoron, shimmed in form in front of her. Unlike his brother, who had fine golden hair, Agoron had dark brown hair, but the same dark green eyes.

"No one." She informed.

"The '_celebration_' " Aerdan said to his older brother over her words, producing a playful chuckle form the older elf.

"You two are impossible. Where is Anethor?" She hissed unable to contain her grin as she rose from her chair, ready to join another group of elves in conversation.

"Over there, dancing." Aerdan was the one to answer her, just as she rose to her feet, his head nodding in the direction where the youngest of her cousins was currently waltzing around with a gorgeous dark haired maiden.

"Oh, Anethor already found his own _'celebration'_ to stare at." Her eldest cousin muttered, eyes shimmering teasingly, erupting a chorus of musical laughter from his brother, Aerdan.

She tried her best to contain her laughter as she quickly walked away from the table in which they had been sitting before her cousins could say anything else. The long pale rose dress she was wearing floated weightlessly around her as she moved, the few tiny jewels she had incrusted in her hair, tingling against one another. She walked tall, as elegant as she could. She had never been one to make herself look small or shy, although she knew her manners very well and was aware of how to act properly and politely. Alarya allowed herself to spare another glance in the high table's direction, only to find the golden throne-line chair empty.

Shaking her head slightly, she quickly turned her head back to the front in order to continue her march through the halls. However, her short distraction came at a prize, for before she could even finish turning her head, she collided strongly against something, or someone by the feels of it. The elf in question had been standing with his back to her, casually chatting with a group of finely dressed elves, and had not seen her approaching. She was stunned for a while, gathering herself after the unexpected collision. Something shattered, and she heard the dripping sound of liquid hitting the polished marble floor.

She blinked a couple of times, mouth slightly open in her stupidity. Someone hissed, and she saw the elf she had collided with shaking his right in the air. If she could have blushed, she was sure she would have turned red in pure embarrassment, wishing the majestic stone walls could suddenly swallow her. There, in front of her was no other than King Thranduil, the shattered pieces of the fine cut crystal glass of wine he had been holding glistening on the floor by the end of his rich blue robes, the deep red liquid making a puddle at his feet.

And yet, what made her wish she could run and disappear was the sight of one of the elves that been chatting with his King quickly grabbing a white silk napkin from the table nearly and holding it to the Elvenking's right hand. King Thranduil's right palm was facing up, a large open cut traveling from the middle of his index finger and all the way down his palm, small pieces of shattered glass sticking awkwardly out of his flesh. The blond elf she did not know held the silken napkin underneath his King's hand, preventing the oozing blood from the cut to drip between his fingers and making a mess, but not daring to press the cloth against the pieces of glass incrusted in the Elveking's hand.

She froze in her spot, like a child caught after shattering her mother's finest vase. Oh, Valar. She felt like slapping herself. Apparently embarrassing herself in front of the mighty and handsome King once was not enough. No. She had to do it _twice_. And, as she could see, she had to do it with _grandeur._ To her biggest surprise, the Elvenking did not look angry at the happening. On the contrary, he looked disbelieved, a soft chuckle escaping his lips at the peculiarity of the situation he was in.

And then he turned to look at her, searching for the cause responsible for his bleeding hand. Piercing endless ice blue eyes met hers, and he did a double take, turning quickly to look back at her as recognition hit him. Two fine eyebrows rose in surprise, a smirk present on his handsome face as his ice blue eyes stared at her mockingly. Oh, yes. She wanted to disappear. She did not know whether to look mortified or to laugh at herself for the ridiculous situation in which she had placed herlself. What was she supposed to say? Sorry, my Lord, I did not mean to run into you and make drop your glass causing it to shatter on your hand and cutting your palm? That was not a thing you apologized for every day. Let alone in the middle of a celebration.

"I should have guessed." Her King said as he stared teasingly at her, looking as tall and royal as ever, the piercing yet humorous sparkle in his powerful ice blue eyes making her feel nervous, sending butterflies to her stomach. She bit her lower lip, smiling apologetically.

However, before she could respond she found the blond elf suddenly moving the King's hand in her direction, placing the napkin in her hands and moving her hands until she was grabbing the cloth in the same way he had been grabbing it previously.

"Here, hold it like this, do not move it." The elf moved so quickly she did not have time to process what was happening, leaving her too confused, and before she could realize it, she found herself awkwardly holding the King's bleeding hand, trying her best not to look at the pieces of glass sticking form his flawless skin.

"I can hold it, Doronor. I have two hands." She heard the King saying with another light chuckle, but the blond elf did not listen as he led his King through the crowd, out of the large pair of exquisite wooden door.

Oh, no, things could not get any worse, or any more embarrassing. Not only was she responsible for the situation, no, she was also the one awkwardly holding the King's hand as they walked through the long corridors of the Palace. It was like parading the shame of her stupidity. She was only glad the corridors were empty. Although that mattered little now, everyone had already seen her mistake inside the Halls. She was sure that had she chosen someone else to accidentally injure, her embarrassing mistake could have passed ignored. But, no, she had to choose the King.

It did not take them long to reach what she guessed was the Healing Wing, and the blond elf led into a room with a couple of beds, a table and some chairs. The King silently made his way to one of the chairs and she followed him silently, longing to let go his hand, which she carried awkwardly over both of hers. To her greatest relief, King Thranduil pulled his hand from hers, placing it palm up on the table and taking the soaked napkin with his other hand. She heard the blond elf leaving the room at a rushed pace, but she did not turn to look, her eyes staring at the floor, trying hard not to laugh out of nerves and shame. How humiliating.

"I do not mind you staying, but do not feel obligated to stay here, my Lady. You may return to the celebration if you wish." His serene musical voice was calmed, peaceful, as if he was talking about the weather. There was not the slightest hint of anger in his voice. No. In fact, he once again sounded amused.

A light laugh escaped his lips, shaking his head lightly. The musical sound reminded her of silver bells floating in the wind, so rare and so unique. Oh, yes, she wanted to leave. She wanted to disappear and erase this memory from her head. But the damage was already done, and he was already very well aware that it had been her the one responsible for the accident. If only to try in vain to lessen her embarrassment a little, she would stay. At least to say she was sorry.

"I am sorry." She said as she lowered herself to the chair next to him. She felt like a child caught doing mischief, and then, without her being able to explain what was happening, she found herself bursting into a fit of nervous laughter. She reached her palm to her face, trying to control her laughter, to force a serious expression on her face. By the Valar! She had accidentally injured her King! But she could not contain the chuckles from escaping her lips.

She lifted her eyes only to find him staring at her interested, ice blue eyes confused, amused, a soft smile on his face. The sight only managed for another fit of nervous chuckles to escape her lips, uncontrollable. She could not stop. She heard the door opening and a dark haired elf, a healer she guessed, walked into the room. The elf sat in front of the handsome King, a set on instruments and gauzes already spread on the table. The healer's eyes darted in her direction, puzzled before looking at his King.

"She is the criminal." The Elvenking answered before the healer had time to ask who she was.

"Alright, my Lord, this might sting." The healer cautioned, but the Elvenking did not wince once as the expert healer carefully removed all the pieces of glass from the cut, one by one, before cleaning it thoroughly with wet gauze. She sat in silence the entire time, finally able to stop her chuckles, but not daring to look at the cut as the healer worked. And still, what made her feel self-conscious was the piercing pair of ice blue eyes, staring at her, impenetrable, unreadable.

"I am going to need to stitch it." The healer informed, and King Thranduil silently motioned for him to proceed with a graceful effortless movement of his hand. She did not know how long it took, but finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the King's had was properly stitched, marking a single line of tiny black knots from his index finger to the end of his palm.

"Wait here while I go get some salve and bandages, my Lord." The healer did not wait for an answer as he rose from the table and headed out of the room, leaving her alone with the King and her embarrassment. The Elvenking's piercing ice blue eyes turned to his hand, carefully examining his palm.

"So tell me, what has Lady Galadriel come to do in my Halls tonight?" His tone was polite, the voice of a King, and yet the teasing sparkle shimmering deep in his infinite ice blue eyes told her he was mocking her. As if she had not made a fool of herself already, he needed to bring her other mistake up. She laughed again. There was nothing else left for to do.

"Well, obviously to shatter your glass of wine, my Lord. Because I seemed to not have been able to embarrass myself enough last time I was here." She found herself saying between chuckles, to her surprise her voice sounded casual, speaking to him way to easily. Why was she saying this?

"No you were not." He agrees with her, and to her great surprise he let out another light laugh.

"I am really sorry, my Lord." She added, looking up to meet his powerful ice blue eyes. He lifted a hand gracefully, waving off her apology as unnecessary.

"Were you enjoying the feast?" He asked, and yet the way in which his piercing ice blue eyes stared into hers was not the same polite way in which they would look at any other elf under this general question. No. It was not a polite question to make conversation. It was a real question. And the look in his eyes told her that her answer mattered.

"I was, very much." She answered with a light chuckle, her green eyes looking into his ice blue ones. He looked so handsome and powerful than she felt incredibly plain. His long light blond hair was perfectly braided, his head adorned by the majestic crown of silver leaves. "My family and I do not usually come."

"I am aware of that." He said in return, his lips curving up in a soft smile. Everything about him seemed so powerful, so royal, and oddly enough she felt so comfortable around him at that moment. But then again, she had already done everything that could make the situation awkward.

"May I ask, how do you celebrate winter's solstice then?" Ice blue eyes stared at hers, curious.

"We stay at our house, exchange gifts. Nothing out of the ordinary. I gift my parents a pine cone…"

"A pine cone?" He interrupted her. His ice blue eyes were looking at her curiously, as if questioning her sanity. He looked entirely confused. "As in a real pine cone?"

"Yes." She let out a chuckle. "A pine cone. You must have seen one at least once in you lifetime, my Lord. You know they are brown and…"

"Yes, yes, I know what a pine cone is" He interrupted her again, his ice blue eyes staring deeply into hers, suddenly looking more curious than before. "My question is why a pine cone?"

"Simply because." She answered easily, as if she did not understand his question. He looked at her for a moment, trying to make sense of her answer.

"But what do you do with a pinecone?" His voice was soft, ice blue eyes more open than before, no longer impenetrable, no longer staring at her like a King stares to his people. And yet, he still looked so powerful, so royal and elegant.

"Nothing." She let out a soft chuckle, letting her eyes easily find his puzzled ones. "That is the point of the gift. You do nothing with it. It has no purpose, only intention. I was a very young elfling and I suddenly wanted to gift my family something, but I had nothing to give them, and then I stumbled into the most perfect pinecones in the forest. You see, I had a fascination with pinecones when I was little. And so, I gave them pinecones, thinking that it was the best present I could ever give anyone. Of course, I latter found out that you could do nothing with pinecones, but still my family loved them. And then it became sort of a tradition to give each other a pinecone. Just for the gesture of the gift."

The King's ice blue eyes were looking at hers intently, listening carefully, as if she had just narrated the most interesting story he had ever heard. The soft, flawless smile on his handsome face made her continue detailing the story, knowing that her audience was more than interested.

"We paint them, of course, to make them look different from one another. So each pinecone you get is different. It is really fun, picking out the colors and detailing the design to make each pinecone a special one."

"What colors do you paint yours?" The gentle way in which his ice blue eyes stared at her made a new round of butterflies flutter inside her stomach, and yet she found herself answering with the same ease she had answered all of his previous questions.

"I do many different colors. Mostly green and blue-"

"I like blue." He commented as she spoke and she let out single chuckle.

"also gold, silver-

"Silver is also pretty."

"-red, and violet."

Her tale was silenced as the dark haired healer suddenly returned to the room, carrying some bandages and something else she could not figure out. The healer silently sat in front of his King, applying what she found out was a sort of healing salve over the stitched cut before carefully bandaging it.

"All set, your Majesty." The healer said, bowing his head respectfully before standing back up and cleaning everything from the table. The Elvenking rose to his feet, nodding his head curtly at the healer with a word of thanks. She followed his example, also rising to her feet.

"Shall we, my Lady?" He said in his polite serene voice, offering her his arm to take, ice blue eyes sparkling oddly at he stared at her. She was surprised at first, but instantly found herself accepting his arm. It felt strange, to walk by the arm of the mighty elf she knew was no other than her King, and at the same time she felt so comfortable, feeling his perfectly muscled arm underneath the rich fabric of his robes.

He escorted her back to the Halls, where they parted ways to join in the exchange of gifts. She did not talk with him again that night, each absorbed in their own little world, and only once did she caught his breathtaking ice blue eyes, staring at her from the high table.

The celebration was as perfect as she had imagined it to be, everything had been the finest of the fine, but it was neither of those things what would make that specific night remain dear in her memories for the rest of her life. And latter that night, well after midnight, after her family had travelled back to her house and her parents were fast asleep, Alarya found herself absently roaming through her collection of beautifully painted pinecones. And then, she found the one she had been looking for. It was small, probably one of the smallest ones she had, painted in the lightest shade of blue, spiked with silver at the edges. She had painted this one some years ago, but had never gifted it, she had only done it for the fun of painting it.

She did not really know what drove her to wrap that small pinecone in some spare silver paper, or what made her write in a tiny card the words _'Sorry for the glass'_ , nor she knew what impulse to send the newly wrapped gift to the Palace the next morning with the messenger elves that carried notes and letters to and from the Palace every day. She only knew it was probably the best gift she had ever given two days later, when she received a small note written in the finest handwriting.

_Forgiven, _

_-Thranduil_

Just like that. As simple as her gift itself. Two words. And yet it was the simplicity of his name, perfectly written in his slanted calligraphy, without any title at the front, without the word King accompanying the name what made a true smile appear on her face.

Here is chapter 2! I hope you enjoy it! And Please let me know what you think!

Thank you so much to those of you who reviewed my latest chapter, I loved hearing all of your comments, and I definitely continue this story! Coco99, Lovely, Ithilenthiel Peredhel, xX-MissyMoo-Xx, R2-D2106, Nowa1, XxNaiXx, Martine9295, Jibril, quaff and Mary Elrondile.

Love,

Elena


	3. Rain

Thranduil turned the page. He had not really been paying full attention to the stack of papers that lay on his hands as his eyes carefully went trough all of them. If there was an aspect of his duties as King that he really did _not_ enjoy was the tedious task of going through reports from the trading agreements. Not that he did think the matter was of little importance, or that it did not require his attention, but nonetheless it was a tedious task. Patrol reports were at least exciting, but these, oh these were simply _long._ At least he had already gone through half of them.

The Elvenking reached two fingers to his head, massaging his temple. These reports always gave him a headache. A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he remembered that he was not the only one who had to go through these reports. Oh, no. He only got the _revised_ version of them, in which things were laid out neatly and concisely, pointing out only the matters of importance. The Valar have mercy on the poor elf in charge of sorting out the reports beforehand and rewriting them for him.

A soft breeze toyed absently with his long light blond hair, and the King of Mirkwood allowed himself to look up from the stack of papers in his hands. The air was cool, anticipating rain in its soothing whistling. Thranduil let his ice blue eyes roam around the silent garden around him, stretching his legs on the long chaise upon which he was casually sitting. Yes, he knew that coming to his gardens to read these reports had been a brilliant idea. No one would come looking for him here unless the matter was of real importance.

A lazy thunder echoed through the humid air, followed by a sudden heavy curtain of rain, pouring from the sky without the gentle warning of first small drops. A soft smile drew on his lips. Now definitely no one would come looking for him. Not that he was bothered by the fact that his presence was mostly always needed for one matter or another, but this day had especially been a very _very_ busy day, and he felt incredibly relieved to have a moment of privacy.

Letting out a silent sigh, the Elvenking put the papers on the cushions next to him, placing a heavy book he had brought with him over them so that they would not be blown away by the breeze. For a moment, he concentrated only of the gentle sound of the swaying trees, and the heady drops drumming on the roof of the small gazebo he was occupying.

It was then that a figure running aimlessly through the curtain of heavy caught his attention. The smile on his lips grew wider as he recognized the figure that had been surprised by the rain. He could not take his eyes from her, watching her as she ran through the wet gardens, her hands over her head in a pathetic attempt to block the rain. He could not help but feel almost entirely surprise to see Alarya. What was she doing in the Palace? He had had no idea she was here. When had she arrived?

Alarya's large green eyes spotted the gazebo –_his _gazebo – and he saw her dashing in its direction, not noticing that it was already occupied. He did not move, simply watching her. Even as she ran from the heavy rain, she looked so elegant and graceful. He watched her reach the gazebo, dropping her hands to her sides as she stepped out of the rain, shaking the water from her arms and dress. She still had not noticed him, taking her long soaked golden hair and twisting it over her shoulder to let it drip on the marble floor.

"You are making a puddle on my perfectly dry floor."

She jumped at his peaceful voice, for the first time noticing that she was not alone. Her eyes immediately turned in his direction, and he sat straighter on the chaise, letting his feet casually drop back to the floor. She flashed him on her flawless smiles, and once again he could not read the expression in her gleaming emerald eyes.

"Good afternoon, my Lord." She greeted him, sounding almost reluctantly, like a child caught stealing the sweets from the kitchen. And yet, the flawless smile never left her lips, her eyes still gleaming with their usual life.

He chuckled lightly as he watched her, standing awkwardly at the edge of the gazebo she had thought to be empty. Her drenched dress stuck to her small figure, and she had her arms folded across her chest, perfectly aware of the way her soaked dress delineated her figure in a most improper way. At least her dress was in a dark shade of blue, which had not gone transparent because of the water. And still, even in her situation, she held her head high, shoulders back, parading herself as if she was wearing a ball gown.

Thranduil rose from the chaise –the only piece of furniture in the small gazebo apart form a small side table next to it- and walked in her direction, removing his formal outer robe. He silently placed the elegant garment over her shoulders to cover her exposed figure, and chuckled as she immediately accepted it.

"It will get wet." She warned him although her voice carried little apology for that fact, and he simply waved his hand, indicating her that he did not mind. She did not look specifically comfortable in his robe, but looked more at peace than she had only seconds ago.

He returned to sit on the chaise, choosing only to occupy half of it as he watched her slide her hands through the ample sleeves of his robe. The rich garment was slightly too long for her, dragging on the floor at her feet. And still, she looked better in the robe than him. The rich green velvet matched her forest green eyes, which sparkled in reflection to the many tiny emeralds sewn in golden threat at the sleeves and around the front.

Alarya quickly brushed her hair with her hands, pushing it behind her shoulders, standing once again tall and elegant. It was a priceless sight, the way she stood so regally, as if trying to divert attention from her dripping golden hair and slightly too big robe that was not even hers. But then again she had been in situations more embarrassing than this one. He watched her carefully, unable to take his eyes off her as she walked to sit next to him without waiting for an invitation.

"Thank you." She said, not meting his eyes. Her melodic voice sounded embarrassed. It was endearing.

"You are most welcome." He replied casually, unable to hide his smirk from his face.

He had not seen her in while. Well, really he had not seen her since the night of the winter's solstice in which she had kindly left him a constant reminder of her in the palm of his right hand. After that they had exchanged short letters every once in a while, the tone in the letters always casual, friendly.

It had been three months now, and their occasional letters had turned into daily ones, and he had found himself for the past week waiting for the correspondence to be delivered to his study every morning, knowing that he would find there a short piece of parchment scribbled with her curly neat handwriting. The letters were never long, no, they could even be called notes. They were never deep or containing a lot of information, and they were always casual, like a conversation carried through days.

"If I may ask, my Lord, what are you doing here in the gardens?" Her voice was polite and kind, although it still held the comfortable ease that he adored in her. Her emerald eyes looked through his with an inexplicable ease, her gaze steady and impenetrable.

"Yes, you may ask. I was simply doing some paper work." He replied. "Now, the question is what brings _you_ here. I have not been notified of your visit."

"Oh, I did not know I was coming." She spoke casually now, as if forgetting all unnecessary formalities. Her bright green eyes continued to look at him as she flashed him another of her perfect smiles. "I learned that my mother was coming early this morning, I do not really know the reason, I did not ask, and I volunteered to accompany her."

He raised an eyebrow at her, not able to contain the smile on his lips.

"Glad to hear you find my Palace so exciting." He teased her as she let out a musical chuckle. "I suppose I still have time to order all glass items to be removed from the dinner table tonight."

"I did apologize for that." She narrowed her eyes at him as she spoke, although the bright smile remained on her lips. "And your Palace is not _that_ exciting, Thranduil."

Her eyes widened for a second as she realized she had addressed him by name, carefully searching in his eyes if he had been bothered by it. He did not say anything, only letting out another chuckle. She had started to address him simply by 'Thranduil' on her letters instead of 'My Lord' or 'Your Majesty' and he had been sure- or at least hoped desperately- that it would eventually slip from her mouth. Truth is, he liked the sound of his name pronounced in his song-like voice. It sounded so natural, so effortless and casual; it was comfortable to hear it.

"You did apologize for that, Alarya." He replied, also using her first name, and he saw visibly relax, another wide smile appearing on her stunning face. "And I do believe my Palace is _very _exciting, otherwise what other reason would you have had to so willingly volunteer to come with such a sort notice?"

She let out a small laugh, the sound life a thousand tiny silver bells carried away in the soothing rhythm of the rain. She looked at him straight in the eye, with the same ease and comfort. Valar, she would be able to make the most uncomfortable situation feel like a merry feast, and at the same time maintain her regal posture and dignity.

"Oh, I did _not_ come because I think your Palace is exciting, Thranduil, do not be so full of yourself." Her eyes sparkled as she spoke, the words leaving her mouth so easily, as if she did not have to think of what to say to speak to him. He let out another chuckle, looking at her straight in the eyes.

"Is that so?" He raised a fair eyebrow at her, sitting as tall and elegant as ever. "Then am _I_ exciting?"

She opened her mouth in disbelief, letting out another musical laugh, but she did not answer. Valar he could not take his eyes off her. She was sitting there, so close to him. For the first time in his life he felt an urge to wrap his arms around her, to hold her close to him, to let his hand touch her long golden hair and finally find out how it felt between his fingers. But at the same time he felt scared to touch her, her body looking so delicate that he felt scared to break her, scared that she might disappear. He simply wanted her to continue speaking, to tell him anything, things about her, things she liked, anything. Instead, he remained sitting tall next to her, as peaceful and elegant as ever. Valar, what was wrong with him? What was she doing to him?

"Do you usually come do your paperwork out in the gardens?" She changed the subject of the conversation, leaving him without the answer he had secretly wanted to hear. Her voice was no longer mocking of teasing, but peaceful and casual, a soothing conversation. A soft smile adorned her lips as she looked into his ice blue eyes with the same ease as ever.

"No, not usually." He found himself answering in the same calmed tone. It was so easy to talk to her. Her curious eyes continued to look at him, waiting for him to continue. "I usually do such task in my study, but today I decided to come out here."

She let out another chorus of chuckles, absently placing a strand of her wet hair behind her ear. "Sorry that I interrupted your peaceful working time."

He smiled at her in return, waving off her apology with a graceful movement of his hand. She had proceeded to curiously examine the embroidery on his robe.

"Forgive me for asking, but what kind of paperwork were you reading?" Her large bright eyes looked at his with real curiosity, and once again he felt the urge to just take her in his arms. She was not teasing him, not speaking playfully, or flirting openly as she had done a couple of time. No. She was simply looking at him, her eyes like vast welcoming forests, her vivid smile still present on her lips.

"You may ask anything you wish, Alarya." He said with a chuckle, staring into her welcoming yet unreadable eyes. "Those are reports from our trades. I can assure you they are not very interesting to read."

She laughed openly at his answer. "They do not sound very interesting to read." Then her expression changed, her eyes sparkling with mischief once again as she raised a golden eyebrow at him. "I may ask anything I wish, you say?"

It was his turn to laugh. "Yes you may ask. Although I did not say that I would answer."

She leaned closer to him, as if too look deeper into his eyes and for a moment he felt confused, not knowing what she was doing, although he kept his expression tranquil.

"Favorite color?"

What? He was sure he could not mask his surprise from showing on his face. Favorite color? He did not have a favorite color.

"Do not have one." He found himself answering but before he could really understand the nature of her question she was already bombarding him with a new one.

"Favorite fruit?"

He was confused again.

"Grapes."

She was still leaning close to him, her eyes staring deeply into his eyes, as if reading whether or not his answers where true. He could not look away from her eyes, hoping for her to come closer, to allow him to hold her in his arms, to press his lips against hers and find out how that felt like.

"Least favorite fruit?" She asked again, not moving an inch form her spot, her flawless smile still present on her face. A light chuckle escaped his lips as he understood what she was doing before continuing to answer to her questionnaire.

"Lemon."

"Why?"

"Too sour."

"Favorite dessert?"

"Lemon tart." He let out a light laugh at her expression. He knew she had not been expecting that answer, even though it was a truthful one.

"But you do not like lemon." She protested, leaning close to him, as if trying to read into his eyes whether he was playing with her or telling the truth.

"I did not say I dislike lemon. I just said it was not my favorite." She smiled at his answer. Valar, he could not keep his eyes away from her, her large emerald eyes pulled him to look into them, to lean closer to her. She showed him another one of her flawless smiles that lighted her eyes with a brightness that would put the sun to shame.

"Fine, Thranduil, I believe you." She let out a chorus of chuckles as she spoke, although her voice did not sound at all as if she had believed him. "Favorit-

"What is this questionnaire?" He interrupted her, not able to contain a light laugh. "It is my turn to ask."

"Alright." She said as her emerald irises eyed him suspiciously, as if trying to anticipate his questions, her smile never leaving her face.

"Favorite color?" He looked straight into her large emerald eyes, falling into the pull from her smile, from her sparkling irises.

"Do not have one." She answered almost immediately, never looking away from his eyes. She was so close to him.

"Favorite fruit?"

"Grapes."

"Least favorite fruit?"

"Lemon."

He raised an eyebrow, but her expression did not change.

"Favorite dessert?"

"Lemon tart."

He let out a chuckle, his smile widening into a grin.

"Stop repeating my answers." He final said, only managing to receive another chorus of chuckles.

"Stop repeating my questions." She said in return, her eyes gleaming with such life, pulling him like magnets. "My turn again, since you ran out of questions."

He was not really listening to her, simply staring at her, unable to look away. Her wet golden hair fell over her shoulders in waterfall of slight waves, dripping over the fine velvet of his robe. Her pale skin looked like porcelain, so soft. Her eyes so bright. And her lips….Valar he wanted to kiss her. He needed to know how it felt. The pull was stronger than him, but nonetheless he did not move.

"Favorite season?" She continued asking, her smile lighting her emerald eyes, staring at him so easily, so naturally.

"Spring." He found himself answering once more, no longer caring what she asked him. He would answer anyway.

"Rain or snow?"

"Rain."

"Favor-

Then, before he even knew what he was doing, before he could even stop himself, he was leaning closer to her. She did not move, slightly stunned by his sudden closeness, her eyes still looking at his, not hesitating. He could feel his lips brushing against hers, and he closed the gap, pressing his lips to hers, gently, almost tentatively. For a second she did not move, and he feared he had done something wrong. And then, she was kissing him back, gently, so gently, leaning in to him.

Then, she suddenly pulled away, leaning back some distance from him. He froze, unsure of what he had done to get that reaction. Her large green eyes looked scared, stunned, and for a moment, there was no sign of her usual confidence. No. She looked entirely surprised, entirely confused, her head no longer held high, her shoulders no longer pushed back. He felt about to panic, suddenly regretting his action. But he did not move, too scared to do anything else to push her away from him.

"I am sorry, Your Majesty." She said in a nervous tone, quickly brushing a hand through her wet strands of golden hair, as if suddenly remembering her proper manners. Your Majesty? Two seconds ago he had been only Thranduil. Now he was back to 'Your Majesty'? The way she had addressed him hurt him more than any insult. And yet he did not say anything. He did not know what to say.

"I am sorry, my Lord. I am…"She continued to apologize. She looked so confused, her hands trembling slightly. Why was she suddenly panicking? Had she not wanted him to kiss her? Did she only feel friendship for him? But she had kissed him back. "I am sorry….I cannot….you are my King!"

She had risen to her feet and walked to the edge of the gazebo, looking at the curtain of rain falling outside. So now he was her King. She reached a trembling hand to her lips, as if trying to clear her mind.

"So now I am your King." He suddenly said, surprised at the low sound of his usually powerful voice. "Two minutes ago I was Thranduil." He wanted to kick himself hard. He should not have kissed her. She would not want to speak to him again, he had pushed her away. He was an idiot.

She turned around, although she did not walk closer to him. Her large emerald eyes were confused, troubled, and entirely unreadable. She was scared, he could see it. But of what? Was she scared of him? She reached a hand to her head, her fingers tangling in her wet golden hair.

"I do not…Thranduil, please…"

"See?" He slowly rose from the chaise, but did not walk to her, afraid that he would drive her away. "Am I just Thranduil, or am I your King? I need to know so that I can act accordingly."

She simply looked at him, looking desperate, looking scared and confused, as if she could not answer his question. He maintained a straight face, standing tall, once again a King.

"I.." She started. "Thranduil…you are my King. You will always be my King. I do enjoy talking with you, I do, more than talking to anyone else…but I cannot…."

He had never felt so confused, had never felt so terrible, so hurt. He did not show it, simply standing there, looking at her large scared green eyes.

"Why?" He asked before he even knew he had spoken.

"Thranduil…"She breathed out almost apologetically. Why did she keep addressing him by name? Had she not pointed out that he was her King? Was that not the reason why she had pulled away so quickly? What did she want? "I cannot do this. I do not want to be Queen. I do not even want to have that possibility, or come close to it….I am sorry."

So that was it. It was not him. It was the crown. Then why was she so friendly? He could not understand her. Her words felt like salt spread on a deep wound. Once again he did not show it, did not show anything. She looked at him for a moment, as if waiting for him to say something, but he did not.

"I have to go, my Lord." She finally said, turning around to leave.

It was then that he reacted, and he wished for the rest of his life that he had said something different, that he had said anything except what he said. He did not really know why he said it. Perhaps it was the first thing that came to his mind? Or perhaps he felt so hurt he wanted to be cold and distant?

"You still have my robe, my Lady."

He did not mean to say that. He did not care about the garment. He knew he should not have asked for it. And still, he had asked for it in return. His voice had sounded cold, calmed, the same powerful tone he used during councils or meetings, the tone of a King. His words had been formal, as the expression on his face. Perhaps too formal. He knew he would later regret these words, regret this action, but at this moment he could not take himself to regret it. He felt hurt, rejected. It was a feeling almost entirely new to him. He was not used to being hurt, not like this.

Alarya stopped in her march, turning to look at him. She did not say anything, as her sad green eyes stared at him, as if knowing that she would not be speaking to him again, that their informal and casual conversations were over. He hated that look in her eyes, hated to know that she would most probably never address him by his first name as casually as he had done this afternoon. Then, without another word, she removed the rich velvet robe from her shoulders, placing it silently on the chaise instead of handing it to his hands, and then, without even a sparing a glance back she dashed away, running into the curtain of heavy rain the way she had come, slowly disappearing from his view.

He was left there, once again alone in the gorgeous gazebo, knowing that no one would come looking for him here. He reached for the fine elegant robe, and gripping it forcefully into his hands he threw it into the rain, watching as the heavy drops drummed over it, slowly soaking it, mud staining its rich green color, the color of her eyes.

Here is yet another chapter! I hope you like it! Please let me know what you think!

Also, Thank you so much to my reiviewers: AmazingWriter123, FioreDiRosa, Coco99, Martine9295, R2-D2106, legolas-jj, Jibril, Mary Elrondile, ForbiddenShadow0, Wtiger5, XxNaiXx, and xX-MissyMoo-Xx.

Love,

Elena


	4. Silence

Alarya placed one foot in front of the other. The long steps to the Main Entrance of the Palace stretched majestically in front of her, carved into stone in perfect craft. The pouring rain made her long cloak feel heavier than usual, the water sliding down the long steps like prancing waterfalls. It had been raining mostly every day for the past month, which did little to cheer her mood.

She let her eyes follow the tall figure of her father, walking in front of her. For the first time in her life she dreaded this majestic ascent towards the Palace, knowing that the only elf in Mirkwood she most wished to avoid at that time so happened to reside in there. No, not only reside. This was _his_ Palace. There would be no way to avoid seeing him once inside those splendid halls.

To her horror, the reason she was now marching into her judgment was because her father sought to speak with the Elvenking about moving into the Palace. Yes, _moving_. The forests outside the Mirkwood gates were not as safe as they used to be, even though patrols secured the borders day and night. It had been some years now that her father had considered the King's multiple offers for them to move into the Palace –given that her father was a high-ranking warrior and Lord. As if it was not already bad enough to have to face the King, let alone reside in the same building. At least the Palace was so large she hoped to find a way to avoid seeing the King.

Much too sooner than she had wished, Alarya found herself stepping into the overly large Main Hall. A servant at the door took their soaking cloaks from them, as another elf –of higher rank judging by his robes.

"Lord Lasgaer." The elf bowed his head in greeting before turning to face her and her mother. "My Ladies."

She nodded her head, imitating her mother, and the strange elf continued speaking to her father. "I am afraid my King Thranduil is holding a council meeting at this moment and is not able to welcome you himself. His Majesty has received the letter you sent in advance, and will be receiving later this afternoon, my Lord. In the meantime, I will show you to your rooms, and a meal has already been sent for you to enjoy in private."

Her father said something in response, but Alarya did not pay attention. Oh, thank the Valar for that council. She was sure she had never received better news that to hear she would not be seeing Thranduil at least for some hours. And strangely enough, part of her felt disappointed. Part of her wanted to lay eyes upon him once more, to talk to him again.

The chambers they had been assigned were, well, large. Then again, everything in this Palace was grand and elegant, every single detail perfectly thought of. Both of her parents gladly accepted the offered meal, but she was not hungry. She casually excused herself, deciding to take a walk through the Palace to clear her mind.

To say that the Palace was large was an understatement. As soon as she had stepped out of the set of chambers that her family occupied, she had found herself lost. She had been there a couple of times before, and still had not managed to learn where anything was. But that was fine. She did not need a destination, no. She simply needed to wonder around, as aimless as her confused thoughts.

It had been three weeks since she had last seen the King. Three weeks since she had fled from his presence. Three weeks since he had kissed her. The sole thought of the kiss made her feel a slight fluttering in her stomach, accompanied by the same irrational fear it always brought to her. Oh, she had liked that kiss. She had kissed him back. And yet, it was exactly _that_ what scared her the most. She had never felt so confused in her life.

True, she did not want to be Queen. She was deadly scared of having that possibility. But what scared her the most was the realization that had come with that simple, gentle kiss: For him, she would accept any tittle. And that was what frightened her, what prevented from sleeping at night, from concentrating right now walked aimlessly through the halls. She would be wiling to become Queen -something she was deeply sure she did not want- only for him. She could not allow that to happen, could not allow someone to have such power over her, make her want to do things she was sure she did not want. Valar, she could not let him have this control over her, make her willing to do things she had never wanted to do make her want to give up things she had been sure she would never want to give up.

But then again, becoming Queen was no longer a possibility. She had successfully made sure of that, openly rejecting him. Then why did she not feel any better? Oh, she had liked him since the moment she had met him. Everything about him fascinated her, and, curious as she was, she had wanted to know more. And then, the moment his lips had touched hers she had confirmed her greatest fear. He was the one she would come to love. Even if she tried her hardest, she would not be able to escape from it. He was the one with whom her spirit would bond, and she had already felt it. There was no going back.

Yet, it had been three weeks since she had last known of him. She had sent the usual short letter the day after the 'incident', as she did every morning. This time she had not received an answer. She had sent two more – the two following days- and had also been left waiting for a reply that never came. After that, she had sent no more letters, and their casual daily conversations had gone silent. _For three whole weeks._ Oh, Valar, she did _not _want to be in the Palace.

She did not know for how long she had been walking when she had reached a large hall showing a majestic pair of beautifully carved wooden doors. She stopped as she watched the tow guards at the door suddenly opening them wide, letting a group of finely dressed elves elegantly march out of the room, still discussing among each other. Alarya felt her heart skip a beat, and she only wished that her presence would be overlooked among the other servants and maids that walked by her through the hall. The Council meeting had ended, and the high elves were now exiting the grand Council Room.

And then, she saw _him_. There he was, the mighty Elvenking, as tall and elegant as ever. His silvery-blue formal robes brushed the floor as he gracefully walked out of the room, every single one of his movements so effortless, so vaporous. The majestic crown rested neatly on his head, even though he did not need it to look royal and powerful. There he was. Thranduil, her King.

His eyes met hers, easily spotting her standing motionless in the hall. Ice blue irises pierced through hers, so cold, so impenetrable, like hard ice over crystalline waters. She had never before felt so observed, his eyes penetrating her with a force and power she had not thought possible, and at the same time, she could not read anything in them. Nothing. Not even his expression changed, his face as serene and composed as ever. _Indifferent_. He contemplated her for a second, the hardest second of her life, and then, as easily as his eyes had met hers, they turned away, back to the front. He simply walked away, reassuming his talk with an elf to his right, without even another glance, without even a nod of the head in acknowledgement. Nothing.

She did not know how she managed to return to her chambers, nor she knew how she managed to go through with the remaining of the day. The King's cold silence had been far worse than any hurtful word. Oh, what she would give to know what had gone through his mind as he looked in her eyes. But she knew that seeing through the Elvenking's composed expression was impossible. Valar the world could be crumbling to pieces around him and he would be able to hide his thoughts. She felt like shouting at someone, anger boiling inside of her at his indifference towards her. That was rude!

That was it. She would go talk to him. He would listen to her. She could not handle the situation anymore; it was already too depressing to not receive letters in return, but silence? Oh, no. She would go talk to him. True, it had been her the one to pull away from him, but not even her pride could handle her emotions any longer.

She stormed to the door of her bedroom, and then as soon as her hand touched the golden knob she stopped. No, she would not go. She did not want to see him. She did not even know what she would say to him. She had firmly pointed to him that he was her King and that was the way it would continue to be. She would not go back on her words. No.

But then again, the moment his eyes had met hers had been at the same time so painful and fascinating. Once again she had found herself paralyzed under his piercing ice blue stare, as if in a daze. Only the Valar knew how she had managed to remain standing with her head high, with as much dignity as she could muster. Even if it had been a short second, his lack of acknowledgment had hurt more than a sharp dagger. She would talk to him. Yes, she would. She would at least try to talk to him, to see if he would talk to her. She missed his voice, their little conversations.

Yes, she would go talk to him. She reached for the doorknob again, trying to focus her mind on her decision. Oh, but what if he did not want to talk to her? That would be humiliating, to say the least. She let go of the doorknob again. Elbereth, what was wrong with her! Why could she not make up her mind!

She would go. That was it. Before she had time to doubt herself again, Alarya reached for the doorknob, pushing the door open without thinking it twice. It took all of her willpower to keep herself walking once again down the long corridors. She could not even think of what she would say, but she knew that if she stopped to think she would turn around and go back to her chambers.

She had needed to ask a maid to show the way to arrive at the long corridor that led to the King's study. Alarya was sure she had never felt this nervous before. However, all of her nerves quickly turned into surprise as the tall blond elf she usually saw beside the King suddenly grabbed her by the arm.

"My Lady, may I help you with something?" His voice was polite and his dark blue eyes held hers easily and steadily, patient, and yet clearly indicating her that she should not be there.

"I would like to see the King." She answered, trying to sound as confident as she could. Oh, who was she fooling, there was no way they would let her waltz into the King's study just because she wanted to.

"My King cannot receive you at the moment, my Lady. So I will ask you to please retire and you will be notified when he can receive you." The blond elf said in his overly patient, yet strong voice. When he can receive her? She would be notified when he can receive her? And why not now?

"If he is busy, I can wait here for as long as it takes." She found herself answering. She did not like being sent away, even though she knew it was what she should do. She knew she had no right in demanding to see him if he did not wish to receive her.

"My Lady, the King will not be seeing anyone today. Now is not a good time. Please leave." The elf insisted. She felt entirely defeated. Ugh, she knew that if she left she would not be able to gather the courage to come back.

Just as she was about to ask again, two dark haired elves walked past them, heading straight in the direction of the King's study. For a second she was about to protest that why did they not get stopped like her, but then she recognized one of the elves. It was the head healer. She did not know his name, but he had been the one who had stitched Thranduil's hand during the solstice celebration.

"How strong was it?" She could hear the healer asking the other elf as they hurried towards the large pair of doors.

"Strong. Perhaps the strongest he has suffered in years." Her insides grew cold as she overheard the answer.

She wanted to hear more, but she could no longer catch their words, both of the elves slipping into the study unannounced. Strong? Strong what? She had no idea what to make of their words. Pretending that she had not heard, she turned around, walking back the way she had come at a fast pace, trying her best to ignore the watchful dark blue eyes that followed her.

That night, the Elvenking did not show up for dinner. She had spent the entire meal throwing discrete glances at the empty throne-like chair at the head of the table. She did not know if she felt relieved that she did not have to face him yet, or disappointed that she could not let her eyes wonder over his long light blond hair or his powerful ice blue eyes.

Alarya spent the entire meal trying to think of what she would say to him, or even worse, trying to imagine what he would say to her. But she had no need for her practiced words. Thranduil did not show up. Neither did he attend any of the meals the next day, the throne-like chair remaining as empty as it had the night before. Yet, none of the elves in the Palace seemed curious about the King's unexplained absence. No. In fact, this seemed to be a normal occurrence to them.

Curious as she was, Alarya had found herself wondering the long corridors and halls throughout the entire day, hoping to find out about the whereabouts of the King. He was not in his study. The entire corridor had been empty when she had walked by, the absence of the guards flaking the large wooden doors indicating her that the room had not been used that day. She had also learned that there had been no council that day, nor had there been any kind of formal meeting that required his presence. She had searched the library, the throne room, the gardens. The only thing that told her Thranduil was still inside the Palace was the sight of a maid carrying a large tray with food in the direction of the Private Quarters – a place she knew was off limits to her.

So he was in private chambers. That was where he had been the entire day. But why? No, it was none of her business to inquire about that. But then again, why? What was he doing there? She had seen the head healer going into his study the day before, and that tall blond elf had told her 'My King cannot receive you at the moment'. Was Thranduil all right? Was he injured? No. I was none of her business. None of her business.

And so, she found herself once again wondering through the Palace the next day. This time, however, as she walked down the familiar long corridor, she found one of the large pair of wooden doors that led to the King's study completely open. She quickly glanced around her. There was nobody around; no guards, no by passers. She carefully approached the room, eager to finally peek inside, her body driven by childish curiosity.

Alarya silently stepped into the doorway, not really daring to walk inside. The large study was empty, just as she had assumed it would be, and thus she let her eyes wonder about the space. This was one room in the Palace she had never seen before. Tall windows adorned the majestic walls, and she could see an oversized balcony in one end of the room, letting the golden sunlight cascade freely into the space. Her eyes fell on the large oak desk in the room, neat piles of paper sitting upon the polished surface. So this was where he worked.

She decided she better leave before she was spotted peeking inside places where she had not been invited. Alarya turned around, jumping suddenly as she realized that she was not alone. No. Standing there, directly behind her, was no other than the Elvenking himself, in all of his glory. Oh, Valar. She had not heard him approach, but then again he had not announced his presence either.

She froze, suddenly standing up straighter. His ice blue eyes met hers easily, impenetrable, so calmed and unreadable. His handsome face was peaceful, as unreadable as his eyes. For a second she did not know what to do, but she did not dare break the stare. Oh, no. She would not shy away from his piercing eyes, trying to keep as little dignity as she could after being caught spying when she had not been invited. He did not look angry. But then again, he did look happy or sad or anything. He just looked…calmed.

He motioned for her to enter the room with a silent, graceful movement of his hand. Oh, Valar, why did she _always_ get herself in these awkward situations? Attempting to look as tall and confident as she could, she walked inside the room, trying to not look impressed by its grandeur.

Thranduil followed her inside, closing the door behind him. She turned to face him, even though what she really wanted was to run and crawl under the desk, where he could not find her. He looked as tall and royal as ever, dressed in rich robes of gorgeous opaque green and wine red. He did not look at all injured, not even slightly tired. Nothing. He looked perfectly fine.

"Doronor informed me you wanted to talk to me?" He said as he motioned for her to take one the comfortable seats near the large fireplace. Oh, the sound of his voice made her want to melt. It was not cold and distant, as it had been in the gardens after she had walked away from him, but it was not as warm and open as it had been before that incident.

She simply nodded her head, lowering herself onto one of the seats as he saw him sit in front of her.

"I am listening." He said patiently. She remained quiet, lost in his piercing ice blue eyes. What did she want to say? She suddenly could not remember any of her practiced speeches. Or even if she could, she suddenly lacked the courage to say them. Yes, she had wanted to talk to him, but about what? About nothing. She just wanted to talk to him, the same way she had talked to him three weeks before, easily, casually. But now, as she found herself sitting in front of her King, she had nothing to say.

"Alarya?" He said after a long moment of silence. She remained silent. Her name. So he was not cutting her off entirely. This was her chance to say she was sorry for walking away, that she did not want to avoid him any longer, that she wanted to continue their casual conversations. This was her chance to say something, _anything._ And yet, she did not. Valar, what was she doing? She was merely wasting both of their time.

A knock sounded on the door, and Thranduil looked at her for a moment, as if waiting to see if she would say anything. She remained silent. Another knock.

"Enter." Thranduil finally called, as if knowing she would not be talking.

A dark haired elf stepped inside the room, stopping a few paces into the large study to deliver his message.

"The representatives from Dale are here, my Lord."

"Thank you, Cunir. I will be there in a moment."

With that, the elegant dark haired elf bowed and silently left the room, closing the door behind him. For a second, Thranduil did not move, as if waiting one last moment for her to say anything.

"Alarya?" So this was it. Her time was up. He would stand and leave. He was expected somewhere else. And yet, here he was, stretching the short minutes to wait for any kind of word to leave her mouth.

"Alarya, I have to go." His voice was gentle, patient, but he did not move, giving her one last chance. "Are you going to talk to me?"

She remained silent.

"Are you going to say anything?"

Silence again. What was wrong with her? Was she going to say anything? Yes! I'm sorry! I want to talk to you! I do not want to push you away! And yet, she remained silent.

Thranduil let out a sigh, rising to his feet in front of her, so tall, so handsome.

"What are you doing?" He breathed out, his voice barely audible. It was a real question, not a demand, not an accusation. It was a real question that he could not answer for himself. "You walk away telling me that you do not want any kind of relationship with me, and then you come looking for me when I am trying to follow your wishes. And now you have nothing to say. You will not even talk to me. How am I supposed to know what you want? I cannot understand you."

His words had been low, none of them hostile. He shook his head lightly, finally turning around and heading out of the room, leaving her alone in the large space, alone with her pain and regret. Why had she not said anything?

For the next four days she avoided any kind of interaction with him. She stayed away form his usual paths, away from the rooms he frequented. Even at meals she restrained her eyes form looking in his direction, too ashamed to meet his piercing ice blue stare. But he did not look in her direction either, carrying on with his light conversations with the elves seated next to him without the slightest trouble, as if she was not there.

It had continued to rain, mostly every day. In fact it was raining that precise night. The heavy curtain of water had started earlier that afternoon and had not stopped since. She was siting quietly in one of the many terraces, watching as the rain drummed on the gardens ahead. A loud thunder would echo through the forests every once in a while. She had frequented this particular terrace nearly every night, after finding out that it was one of the least frequented places in the Palace, and it was usually completely empty. And this night was no different. It was late, much too late for the elves at the Palace to be awake.

She lifted her eyes from the book she had been reading, once again watching the dark gardens, obscured by the heavy rain. This time, however, something different caught her eye. A figure, walking in the rain as if the raging storm did not bothered him. She immediately stood, her surprise and worry suddenly taking the best of her. What was he doing out in the rain? Was he insane?

The Elvenking was walking in her direction, slowly, as if it was not raining at all. His long light blond hair was plastered to his head, darkened by the water, and even in the distance she could see the mud staining his drenched robes. He was walking in her direction, his hands cupped in front of him, as if he was holding something in them.

"What are you doing?!" She called as soon as he as within hearing distance, for a second forgetting that she was talking to her King. "Get out of the rain!"

His ice blue eyes met hers, as steadily and easily as always, impenetrable. He continued his march, climbing up the steps of the terrace in her direction. A large puddle followed his steps, water dripping from him and onto the polished marble floor. He stood there, in front of her, tall and wet. She once again fell silent, just looking into his eyes, no longer finding words. And then, he extended his cupped hands, as if offering her the strange assortment of things he carried there. There was a broken twig, some leaves, a small stone, even an acorn, all of the items drenched and covered in mud. She looked back into his eyes, trying desperately to understand.

"There are no pinecones in my gardens." He finally said, his ice blue eyes staring directly at hers, looking apologetic. "I could not find a single one. So I brought you this instead."

She did not know what to say, it was as if she had been hit hard on the head.

"Will you please talk to me?" His voice was gentle, a plea, not the commanding or powerful tone of a King. She could not move, could not look away from his ice blue eyes. "You do not have to like me, you do not even have to be friendly, but would you please stop avoiding me? Just talk to me. Say anything."

She once felt stunned, dazed, unable to react. She had never felt this way before, and she could not name what she was feeling. Suddenly, for the first time, she wanted to throw her arms around his neck, to cling to him, to remember the feeling of his lips against hers. But she could not move, felt too stunned. Instead, she said the most ridiculous and stupid thing she could have said.

"You brought all of that, and you could not think of bringing a single flower?"

A new expression crossed his face, and his ice blue eyes immediately lowered to his cupped hands. Then he looked up at her, looking apologetic for his mistake. Then he turned, heading out once again into the rainy gardens, but she stopped him by the arm before he could walk out in the rain.

"No, no!" She said, and he turned again to face her, confused. She let out a chuckle, unable to contain her smile any longer. "I do not want you to get me a flower."

Her eyes met his, so deep and welcoming, so gorgeous. She wanted him to kiss her, but she knew he would not do that again, at least not without knowing for sure that she would not walk away from him again.

"Yes." She finally said, unable to look away from his ice blue eyes. "Yes, I will talk to you. I will not avoid you, Thranduil."

She used his name. True, she was scared of loving him, was scared of the chance but becoming Queen, but if there was one thing she was sure of was that he was not her King. She could not think of him only as her King. She had tried, and she had suffered every second of it. So, however this would end, she would at least try. She knew there was no way back, and it would not be an easy road, but she also knew that for him, she would be willing to accept any tittle.

He smiled at her, his ice blue eyes lighting like stars on the rainy night. He did not kiss her, as she wanted to, did not embrace her, or touch her in any way. It was as if he did not want to spoil his luck with a wrong move. He turned around to head back inside the Palace, but then quickly turned on his heels to face her once more. Silently, he deposited all the muddy pieces of forest on her hands, leaving her chuckling and confused.

"Wha…"She said as he turned around and headed back inside the Palace. "What am I supposed to do with this, Thranduil?" She let out a light laugh at the irrationality of the situation.

"Nothing." She heard him call out as he disappeared inside the large halls, leaving a wet and muddied trail behind him. "That was the point of the gift, was it not?"

Here is another chapter! I hope you like it! Please let me know what you think!

Again, thank you so much to those of you who reviewed my latest chapter! Nowa1, Coco99, wonderpanda10, R2-D2106, Martine9295, AmazingWriter123, Jibril, Mary Elrondile, TaCo, XxNaiXx, Lady of 3ar, xX-MissyMoo-Xx, and Wtiger5.

I will reply to your reviews as soon as I can! And I know I have not yet update Almarëa, I'm working on the chapter, but those usually take a longer time to write.

TaCo: Legolas will appear later on in the story, I just don't know when yet ; )

Love,

Elena


	5. Turn

The Elvenking dropped himself on the elegant chair behind his large oak desk. He was tired, and definitely not in his best mood. His sixth meeting of the day had just ended only minutes ago. Yes, _sixth. _How he managed to go through six meetings and not go insane, only the Valar knew. And as if that was not enough, he had spent his entire morning hearing audiences from his people at the throne room.

Thranduil placed his elbows on the polished surface, holding his head in his hands. Oh, he would talk to Doronor in the morning. Scheduling six meetings in one day! Was his advisor trying to kill him? And to his further irritation, he had missed dinner. Nothing could make the King's mood any sourer than having to miss the evening meal because of a meeting or council. Lunch he could manage, but dinner!?

A timid knock sounded on the door of his study, and the Elvenking had to use nearly all of his self-control not to yell at the poor elf on the other side. What else could anyone else need from him today?! Was it not already late enough?! He had only just gotten to his study to drop some important papers on his desk and there was already someone knocking on his door. Thranduil closed his eyes for a second, searching to calm himself down before answering.

"Enter." He said in his usual strong yet perfectly calmed voice, sitting up straight on his chair. If it was Doronor, his friend and him would have a very _very_ long talk.

The door opened almost immediately, only wide enough for an elf he did not recognize to slip inside the room, stopping only two steps from the door. The Elvenking looked at the elf expectantly, and to his amusement, the moment his eyes met the newcomer's, the latter lowered his to the carpet, bowing respectfully. Thranduil felt the edge of his lips twitching upwards at the elf's reaction. The newcomer was terrified of him. At least he would enjoy himself for a couple of seconds.

"Yes?" The King spoke expectantly, letting his ice blue eyes pierce through the poor young elf, who remained with his eyes fixed on the carpet.

"I have come to ask if my Lord will be having his meal sent to his chambers or here." The elf's eyes never lifted from the carpet, but at least his voice was loud enough and perfectly understandable. The Elvenking had to make an effort not to let his amusement show on his face, keeping his perfectly composed expression. Why was the young elf so terrified of him? Oh, this was going to be fun.

"My chambers will be fine." He answered in his usual authoritative and serene voice, sitting tall on his chair. The young elf bowed his head in understanding, turning to leave the room immediately but the King stopped him before he could even take one step.

"Have I dismissed you?"

The elf immediately turned around, his naïve hazel eyes giving away his surprise and nerves, bowing his head again quickly.

"No, my Lord." The elf answered, his voice panicky and once again Thranduil had to concentrate to maintain a straight face. It never ceased to amuse him how the young servants of his Palace acted so edgy and scared around him as if someone had told them that he would throw them in the dungeons if they did something that displeased him.

Holding back a chuckle, the King of Mirkwood turned his attention back to his desk, sorting out some papers into neat piles. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see the young scared elf standing awkwardly near the door, looking as if he had just been placed in the most uncomfortable position in his life. Oh, poor elf. It was not the elf's fault that he had had such a terrible day and was in such a sour mood, but then again he was enjoying the situation immensely. Finally deciding that the poor elf had had enough torturing he turned again to face him, letting his face look somewhat softer than before.

"You may be dismissed." He announced, his voice also sounding gentler. The young elf did not wait to be told a second time, quickly bowing his head and disappearing through the door.

Thranduil let out a sigh, his slender fingers massaging his forehead tiredly as he slumped back on his chair. Oh, Valar, he was going to kill Doronor. He was absolutely mentally exhausted. It took nearly all of his willpower to rise from his chair and walk out of the room before he could fall asleep sitting right there.

"I am retiring for the night." He informed the guards outside his door, who simply nodded their heads in understanding. "I am not to be disturbed." The guards nodded their heads again but he did not turn, elegantly making his way down the long corridor.

A small smile appeared on his face as his thoughts quickly drifted to a certain golden haired Lady. It had been close to two weeks since he had come looking for Alarya on one of the terraces of the Palace, soaked in rainwater and carrying muddy pieces of the forest in his hands. After that, they had started meeting in that same terrace at the end of the day, or whenever he had some time off. Little did she know that that specific terrace was one of the terraces adjoining the Private Quarters of the Palace, thus the reason it was always vacant. But he did not mind her using it. He did not mind at all. Sometimes it was he the one to find her waiting in terrace, always on the same long chaise and reading one of the many books in his library, and others it was she the one to find him waiting for her.

Those meetings were always the best part of his day, and even though he would not admit it out loud, he found himself overly disappointed in those days in which their spare times did not coincide. Talking to her was so refreshing, so easy and relaxing. There was never a set time to meet, and never a specific topic to discuss. Sometimes their conversations lasted hours, and sometimes only minutes.

Just as he had expected, he found Alarya gracefully lounging on her preferred chaise, her stunning emerald green eyes lost behind the pages of a book. The Elvenking stopped at the entrance of the terrace for a moment, not wanting to make his presence announced yet. His ice blue eyes watched her for a second, taking in her entire appearance. She looked so peaceful, her long golden hair cascading over her shoulders and down her back and her weightless pale blue dress lay sprawled around her like solid water. She looked so delicate her pale skin seeming to be made of fine porcelain.

He knew she had heard him approaching, for her large forest green eyes lifted in his direction, easily finding his with their usual steadiness and light. She flashed him one of her flawless smiles as he walked in her direction, his silver formal robes brushing the floor behind him. Thranduil watched her close the book she had been reading, silently handing it to him, and he found himself accepting it with a chuckle and placing it on a nearby table.

"You missed dinner." She commented, sitting up straighter as he lowered himself on his usual seat. For the first time that day he let his annoyance show as he dropped his head in his hands, elbows on his knees, his fingers unconsciously massaging his forehead again.

He heard Alarya let out a chorus of chuckles, the sound like tiny silver bells floating in the fresh night air. Then, he heard her stand up from her spot at the chaise and walk in his direction, taking the seat next to him.

"You look tired, Thranduil." She added and he lifted his head to gaze into her eyes, waving off her observation with a graceful movement of his hand.

"How was dinner?" He asked her, sitting back comfortably on his seat. Her bright green eyes met his once more, easily and steadily, making every other object in the terrace or gardens ahead not worth looking at. How she managed to make him feel so peaceful and comfortable when she was around only the Valar knew.

"I do not know. I did not attend and had dinner with my family in our chambers instead." She confessed, her eyes sparkling vividly, as alive as the green forests ahead, flashing him another one of her flawless smiles.

"Then how do you know I was not present?" It was his turn to chuckle, raising a questioning eyebrow at her.

"That is hardly confidential information." She mocked him, the grin on her face reaching her endless emerald eyes. Oh, Valar, he wanted to hold her close to him, to lace his fingers with hers, to finally press his lips against hers for a second time, and hopefully not scare her away this time. But he did not move, remaining as tall as elegant as ever, ice blue eyes looking directly at hers.

"Lord Doronor informed me of that." She mentioned as if it was irrelevant. "He mentioned that one of your meetings had extended longer than estimated and that you would not be free until a late hour."

"Ah, so he did." Oh, he was definitely going to kill Doronor now. What else had his friend been telling Alarya? Apparently she was well informed of his entire schedule. "Well, if you would accompany me, Alarya, I can have my dinner brought here."

"I would love to." Was her answer, and he rose from his seat to summon one of the guards standing at the entrance to the Private Quarters and sending the new instructions to the kitchens. He returned only a couple of seconds after, once again lowering himself on the comfortable seat he had previously occupied.

"You really do look tired, Thranduil." She pointed out again, her voice a perfect melody, carrying the characteristic edge of authority and stubbornness it always carried.

"You go through six meetings in one afternoon and then tell me how you would look." He muttered in return, narrowing his ice blue eyes as his sour mood took hold of him again.

To his surprise she laughed. Yes, she laughed at him. Her musical laughter floated in the air like a glorious symphony, making him chuckle along. Oh, Valar, he would never understand her. His ice blue eyes followed her attentively as she rose from her seat and lowered herself upon the armrest of his seat, to his left. He eyed her carefully, trying to predict what was on her mind, but he could read nothing behind her sparkling emerald eyes. She was so close he just wanted to reach for her and pull her into his arms.

"Come here." He heard her saying in a low voice, letting out a faint chuckle. Much to his surprise and confusion he felt her delicate hand gently guiding his head to rest on her lap. What was she doing? The Elvenking found himself too surprised and much too confused to say anything or pull back from her.

He felt so comfortable, and at the same time so puzzled. He did not want to move, not yet understanding her actions. The soft fabric of her dress pressed against his left cheek, and he could feel the warmth of her skin underneath it. And then, before he had time to further ponder on those sensations, he felt her delicate tender fingers sliding through his hair.

Never before had he felt this confused, this petrified and surprised in his life. What was she-? Was she stroking his hair? Her gentle fingers slide once again through his long light blond hair, he could feel them tenderly moving down his head, the feeling the most soothing he had ever felt. Yes, she was definitely stroking his hair. No one ever stroke his hair, only his mother had when he was but a very young elfling. The feeling was almost entirely new to him, leaving him confused and stunned. He did not move. He did not want to move. Valar, it felt so soothing, so welcoming, her gentle fingers sliding down his head and through his long strands of hair, without being asked to do so, simply because she wanted. His mind could not really understand such action, and yet he did not want her to ever stop. No, he wanted her to continue stroking his hair for the rest of eternity, to simply lie there with his head on her lap, where he was no longer King and there was no realm to rule, where there were no curious eyes to watch and judge his actions.

"Stop." He said before his mind could even finish a concrete thought, lifting his head from her lap, quickly pushing his hair behind his shoulders. Why had he said that? And then again, what had she been doing? He could not understand it. How such a simple gesture could carry so much affection? Alarya had pulled her hands away, neatly folded over her lap, but she had not moved from her spot at the armrest. She did not seem surprised at all by his reaction.

To his relief a servant arrived at that precise moment, carrying a large silver tray filled with food and placing it on the table not too far from them. The elf bowed respectfully, and the Elvenking nodded his head slightly in a silent dismissal.

"That looks really good." Alarya said as she rose to her feet and made her way to the table. She seemed so tranquil, her large green eyes still sparkling with light, her smile still present on her face. She did not look at all bothered by his reaction.

"You may have as much as you like. There is more than enough for the two of us." He could not hold back a smile as his eyes watched her, also standing up and walking to where she waited at the table. And still, the fresh sensation of her fingers trailing through his hair was still on the back of his mind. He felt so confused, so stunned, at that mere sensation of something so simple and yet so new and difficult to understand for him.

"I just want this." She said with a chuckle as she picked one strawberry from the plate. He waited for her to sit before lowering himself onto a chair, helping himself to the fresh pieces of fruits and cheeses on the large plate.

"You will never guess what happened to me this afternoon, Thranduil." She started, taking yet another strawberry from the plate. The tone of her voice and the way in which her lips twitched up at the memory made him laugh slightly, unable to take his away from hers.

"Do I want to know?" He asked, arching an eyebrow questioningly, not able to contain a smile from appearing on his face. If there was something he had learned over the past weeks- months really- was that Alarya was capable of placing herself in the most unimaginable and embarrassing situations, and yet she managed to do so with a grace and dignity ever single elf in Arda would envy.

"Yes." She confirmed, letting out another musical chuckle. "You will laugh –at me- but you will laugh."

That alone made him laugh lightly, shaking his head as he did so.

"What did you do?" He asked, already dreading the answer. Her large green eyes looked directly at his, so easily, so steadily, once again like endless swirls of emeralds, pulling him into their liquid depths.

"I did not _do _anything." She defended herself, letting out another chuckle as she absently took yet another strawberry from the plate. He had stopped eating those without her noticing, letting her have them all instead. "I was simply walking to the library, and some elf that walked by me dropped some papers on the floor. Then, I, waning to make a good deed, picked up the ones closer to me and handed them to her and said 'Here you go, my Lady'. But then when I looked up to hand her the papers I noticed that it was not a Lady! There was no way I could possible fix my mistake! I wanted to run!"

"Alarya!" He exclaimed, bursting into laughter. Oh, Valar only she could make him laugh like this.

"I was really sorry! I did not see! Someone walked past me and I just saw he was wearing something long and I thought it was a dress! I did not really look until I had already spoken!" She protested, laughing along with him, but he found that he could not answer her between chuckles. The poor elf would most probably not had found her words as funny as he found them.

"Who was it?" He managed to ask between chuckles. Only Alarya would do such a thing.

"I have no idea." Her eyes were large, looking apologetic and embarrassed as she spoke, and yet they sparkled vividly with the hilarity of her mistake. "I have never seen him before. You probably know him though. He looked important."

"And what did you do?" He asked, unable to contain his laughter. Valar, he would never be bored around her.

"What could I possibly do?" She let out another fist of musical chuckles. "I apologized and walked away."

He simply continued laughing, trying to hard to regain his composure. After a short moment he was finally able to stop his incessant chuckling, although a wide smile remained on his face, shaking his head lightly as he gazed into her eyes.

"Thranduil?" Her voice had suddenly lost all of its previous laughter, simply low and serious now. He simply stared into her eyes, waiting for her to continue. "Did you not like me stroking your hair?"

What? Of course he had liked it. It had felt so soothing, so welcoming and comforting. And yet it had felt so strange and puzzling. He did not know what to answer, he did not really know what to make of such action.

"Why did you do that?" He said the only thing that came to his mind, the question he was trying so desperately to answer. Again she reacted in the way he least expected. Alarya let out a light laugh, not mocking him or teasing, a simple beautiful laugh. And yet he did not laugh along with her. No. He wanted her to answer his question. Her large emerald eyes met his, as open and endless as her smile, pulling him into their depths.

"Because." She answered, not seeming surprised by his question, her musical voice as calmed and casual as if it was an easy answer. What? Because? He simply stared at her, his face perfectly composed, and yet his eyes remained gentle, trying to understand.

"Do it again." He commanded, his voice barely audible. She let out a single chuckle, flashing him her perfect smile, the one that could opaque the sun.

The Elvenking followed her with his eyes as she sat on the armrest of his seat, moving so gracefully and casually. She waited for him to lower his head, and slowly, almost hesitantly he rested his head upon her lap, the feeling so strange and at the same time so welcoming. And there it was again, her delicate fingers tenderly sliding down his hair. It felt just as it had the first time, so soothing, so warm and relaxing. It stunned him once more, that overwhelming feeling attached to such a simple almost purposeless action.

Once again he did not want her stop, but she did not. She remained quiet, letting her hand slide down his long strands of hair, as if she did not mind at all. Valar, why did it feel so good? His entire body had relaxed under her simply touch, his eyelids dropping closed in an unconscious reaction. The faintest of smiles drew on his lips, without him even noticing it.

"I am going to fall asleep." He whispered and he heard her let out a melodic chuckle in return, her hand never stopping its path down his hair.

"Go to bed, Thranduil." He heard her saying, her voice as soothing as her gentle hand. "You are tired. We can talk tomorrow."

Slowly, he lifted his head, although every single thought seemed to scream him to never move, to stay forever under that soothing touch, so close to her. He let out a single chuckle, watching her stand up from the armrest as he imitated her. Valar, he wanted to wrap his arms around her small body, to press her to him, to slide his won fingers down her flowing golden hair. She did not move, standing there in front of him, nearly a head shorter than him, and at the same time looking so tall and elegant, so frail and strong at the same time. He wanted to kiss her, to press his lips against her delicate ones, and yet he did not move.

"Sleep well." She said, just as she did every time they met at night.

And then, unexpectedly for him she placed her lips to his cheeks, so quickly, so lightly, almost shy about it. Then, as quick as her kiss had been, she turned around, ready to leave. Before he could think of what he was doing he grabbed her by the arm, gently, stopping her before she could walk away. Alarya stopped immediately, turning to face him, her face surprised, watching him, trying to read through his eyes. He took a step closer to her, not letting go of her arm, his thoughts not matching his actions. She was there, so close to him, unmoving as he leaned closer to her, her face only inches away.

Her large green eyes remained fixed on his, confused, surprised, but still she did not move, her body tensing slightly at his sudden closeness. Slowly, very slowly, his hand travelled to her cheek, caressing her soft skin so gently he was not sure he as even touching her. She trembled lightly under his touch, but once again did not move, her eyes still fixed on his, so welcoming and endless, her face so close he could feel her warmth, his nose slightly brushing hers.

He could not hold back, and yet he moved slowly, tentatively, leaning closer to her feeling a silent tiny gasp escape from her mouth as his lips brushed hers. And then she closed the small gap, pressing her lips to his, so gently and yet so sure. And that was all he needed. He kissed her back, gently as well, wrapping his arms around her waist as he felt her own delicate arms around his neck, her fingers tangling with his hair. And in that kiss he understood so many things, as if that simple action could mock everything else in the world around them, nothing no longer seeming important. There was no why to it, as simple as her painted pinecones, as easy as her fingers sliding down his hair. And then he knew what he had already known. She was the one with whom his spirit would bond. He could feel it starting. Slowly, almost inexistent, so frail it could still break, but it was there.

They pulled apart sooner than he had wanted, but to his greatest relief she was still in his arms, her face only inches away from his, her delicate arms still loosely around his neck. His lips curved up in a smile, mirroring hers, his forehead resting against hers.

"You know that a relationship with me would mean…" He did not even finish speaking, the words dying in his mouth as his eyes stared deeply into hers, hi voice barely even audible. He knew she was scared of the title, knew she did not want it.

"I know." She whispered in return. "I do not care."

His smile grew wider, his eyes trapped in her bright emerald ones. He leaned in again, pressing his lips to hers once more, and feeling her return the kiss. Suddenly his awful day turn out to be the best of nights. Doronor could schedule eight meetings for the next day and he would go through all of them, if at the end of the day he could see Alarya, hold her to him, kiss her.

So here is chapter 5! Sorry that it took me a while to update! I hope the chapter can make up for the wait!

Again thank so much to those of you who reviewed my previous chapter, I really loved all of your comments and can't thank you enough for them! Nowa1, Coco99, Jibril-Kadamon, Martine9295, Lemon drop, AmazingWriter123, XxNaiXx, .77, R2-D2106, legolas-jj, ForbiddenShadow0, wonderpanda10, xX-MissyMoo-Xx, Mary Elrondile, and Kirschflower.

Love,

Elena


	6. First

"Alarya!"

She turned her head at the sound of her name, coming back to reality. Her eyes instantly found her eldest cousin's pair of equal green, staring at her strangely.

"It is the third time I call you. Did you not hear me the first two? What has gotten into your mind lately?" Her cousin, Agoron, said as he took some steps closer to her, his lips curving up in an amused smile.

The gently rays of golden sunlight splattered over the marble floor of the balcony inside her chambers. All of her belongings had already been brought to the Palace, her family finally settled in permanently. She was still not entirely used to residing in the Palace, but it definitely had its good side. Her lips twitched upward involuntarily as her thoughts flew once again to a certain elf in the Palace, an elf that so happened to be the King.

It had been a week since she had last seen the great Elvenking, a week since they had kissed….and a week since he had left the Greenwood in a haste to solve she did not know what problem in which village of men not too far away. Not that she did not understand the importance of his duties, but she could not help but thoroughly disliking the entire village –which she did not even know really- for choosing that specific day to need the King's presence for whatever reason they had. And yet, only thinking about the kiss made her feel all of fluttery inside, making unable to smile even when she tried her hardest.

"Yes I heard you, Agoron." She smiled at her cousin as he reached her side, leaning his weight over the frail railing. "I was just pretending you were not here."

Her cousin let out a musical laugh, throwing one strong arm around her small shoulders. That was just another perk she had found she liked about residing in the Palace. Her three cousins spent a lot of time here, as experienced warriors they often joined in the patrols, coming and going to the Palace with reports.

"Alarya? Are you in here?" Came the voice of her second cousin, Aerdan, form the doorway, and for a second she was tempted to pretend she was not there, but Agoron had other ideas.

"Yes, we are in here." He called to his younger brother, who, unlike him, had hair of a light golden color but the same green eyes. Not even a minute later Aerdan had joined in the balcony, leaning against the railing to her other side.

"It is nice to see you this often, little cousin" Aerdan commented as he flashed her playful smiles, making her laugh lightly in return. Oh, Valar, how she loved her cousins.

"It is good to see you too, Aerdan." She smiled as she spoke, and out of the corner of her eyes caught sight of Agoron narrowing his eyes at her, a grin on his face.

"Alright, Alarya. Who is he?" What? Her head flew in her eldest cousin's direction. She had not seen that question coming.

"Who what?"

Agoron's eyes sparkled teasingly, a look she already knew very well what it meant. Aerdan's laughter echoed from her other, a gentle breeze blowing softly from the forest outside, toying with her long golden hair.

"Oh, please, Alarya, how old do you think I am? You have been in an unusually good mood the entire week." Agoron added with a smirk. Oh, Valar. Thinking it twice, in times like this she did _not_ love her cousins. "Now who is the ellon me and my brothers have to intimidate?"

It resulted impossible not to laugh at that. If only her cousins knew. "That is something I would like to see."

"What is his name?" Aerdan was the one to speak this time, rounding her to stand by her older brother's side. Why did her cousins enjoy teasing her this much?

"I am not telling you that!" If only her cousins simply laughed at her expression, clearly not done with their interrogation. Truth is, she did not mind telling them, but already knew they would believe she was mocking them.

"Is it someone we know?" Agoron questioned, and she laughed again. Oh, her cousins truly had no idea.

"If by that you mean you know who he is, then yes. Whether you know him personally, I do not know, but I somehow doubt it." She was having too much fun with this conversation, and at the same time only thinking about her cousins and family finding out about her and the King made her overly nervous. It would certainly _not_ be what any of them would have imagined or expected.

Agoron simply laughed at her reply narrowing his eyes playfully at her. "We know everyone, my dear cousin. We will find out his name."

"King Thranduil."

What? Her heart skipped at beat at Aerdan's unexpected words. Her head flew in his direction, imitating Agoron.

"There. He is returning."

Valar, she had never felt so relieved in her life. Aerdan's gaze was focused on the Main Courtyard some distance below, one of his hands gesturing in the direction of a group of riders quickly making their way towards the main entrance of the Palace. Her eyes immediately found him, there at the front of the line, tall and royal, simply so graceful and elegant as he jumped from the horse in a single flawless move, landing perfectly on his feet.

The Elvenking did not even look as his large escort dismounted from their horses, a group of elves already taking care of his own horse as he made his way to the entrance of the Palace. She watched him the entire way, looking small in the distance, and yet as handsome as always, his fine dark green travelling cloak swirling around him as he moved. One elegantly dressed elf had made his way towards the King, seeming to be informing him of something as they disappear through the main doors of the Palace, no longer in her view.

She was only glad that her two cousins had been as entertained by the sight as her, otherwise they would for sure have noticed the smile that grew on her lips at the mere sight of the Elvenking. How she managed to his her emotions from showing on her face only the Valar knew, but somehow she was able to keep her face perfectly relaxed as her cousins looked back at her, the scene they had been spying on already over.

"He truly is a great King." She heard Agoron muttering as he turned back towards her chambers. To her further relief both of her cousins seemed to have let go of their little interrogation for the moment, King Thranduil's arrival distracting them from their game.

"Come, brother." Aerdan added as he walked back inside the chambers. "Let us go find Anethor. We will see you at dinner, Alarya."

She smiled at her cousins, watching them as the two brothers exited her chambers, their eyes still sparkling playfully, as they always did. She simply stayed in the balcony, her eyes lost in the place where she had just seen the King dismounting his horse. She smiled to herself. Thranduil was back. And at the same time she also felt nervous about it. Her time of hiding had officially ended, it was only matter of time until rumors starting travelling throughout the Palace, and more so, what would her parents say?

The rest of the afternoon went quietly for Alarya. She simply sat in the private sitting room her family shared, accompanying her mother as the latter worked on the intricate embroidery of one of her father's tunics while her father read a book. She knew she would have to wait until dinner to see Thranduil, and then after dinner to be able to talk to him in private. After all he had merely arrived back at the Palace some hours ago, and it did feel nice to spend an afternoon in family with only her parents.

A knock on the door made all three heads turn in its direction. Alarya let her eyes follow his father as he stood to open it. They were certainly not expecting any visitors. To her further surprise the elf standing on the other side was no one she recognized, and by the looks of it, neither did her father.

"Lord Lasgaer." The elf greeted with a slight bow of his head, her father simply responding a curt nod before the elf continued speaking. "His Majesty would like to see you in his study, if this is a convenient time for you."

Oh Valar, Elbereth, Ilúvatar. What Thranduil would say to her father she had no idea, but she did have a slight guess. She only prayed that the King would require a word with her father for work motifs, and that the conversation they would have had nothing to do with her. Alarya never knew how she managed not to pale from her seat on the couch as she watched the interaction between her father and the elf with a newfound urgent interest. To her further despair her father looked entirely surprised at being summoned by the King. She knew for a fact – from both sources, her father and Thranduil- that whenever the King requested a meeting with her father and other high ranking warriors and captains, they were formally notified ahead of time.

"Please inform my Lord that I will be there right away." Was her father's answer, and much to her misery the messenger elf bowed his head before quickly leaving the room.

"What is it about, _meleth_?" She heard her mother asking her father as the later turned in their direction, still looking rather confused. "What could King Thranduil need?"

"I know not." Her father quickly kissed her mother's temple before heading again to the door. "I guess I will find out soon."

Then, just before his hand grabbed at the doorknob his father turned again to face her, a warning look on his face, one she knew very _very_ well. "You have not done anything I should know or worry that the King may have complains about, right Alarya?"

Done anything? Oh, she probably had done _everything._ Oh, Valar, please let the meeting be about strategizing patrols and guards. Somehow managing to keep a straight, seemingly confused face, Alarya shook her head, looking as sure of herself as she possibly could. And then, without another word, her father exited the piece.

She could not stay in that room a wait, she simply could not. She suddenly felt as if she needed to keep moving, walking at least, although she had no idea where she would go. Using a walk in the gardens as an excuse, Alarya quickly left her family chambers, starting an aimless walk through the long majestic corridors of the Palace. She did not know for how long she wondered about place, her mind not really paying attention to where she went or who passed by her.

She finally settled on her favorite chaise in the terrace where she usually met Thranduil. She was not particularly waiting or looking for him, but it was the only the place in the Palace she knew would be entirely deserted. Her thoughts were an incoherent turmoil, and simply thinking about the fact that her father was currently meeting with the King made shudders run down her spine. No. There was no point in feeling nervous. She did not even know what the meeting was about, right? She had no reason to jump to conclusions.

But, oh Valar, what would happen once the rest of the elves of the Palace found out about her relationship with the King? It would obviously not stay a secret for long, even though she was holding to the hope that since it was something barely starting –as a sort of romantic relationship at least- rumors would hold for a while before bursting. But who was she kidding? This was the King she was talking about! Of course the elves would talk! Would she start getting stares as she walked through the Palace? Would there be whispering around her wherever she went? Only thinking of that made her shiver. No. No, she should not think about that. Perhaps nothing of this would happen. But what if it did?

Then again, the sole thought of feeling Thranduil's lips against hers made all of those things seem so unimportant. The simple memory of his arms around her waist and his ice blue eyes piercing through hers made her want to let everyone know that is was _she_ the only one allowed in his arms like that, and no other Lady. Would it really be that bad if all of those things she was so exaggeratedly worrying about came to pass?

She suddenly jumped, startled as she felt a hand lightly come to rest on her shoulder. A melodic laughter echoed at her reaction and she immediately turned around smiling as her eyes found the tall and elegant figure of the Elvenking standing right behind her.

"It was not my intention to startle you." He said in his serene voice as he rounded the chaise and lowered himself next to her, his lips curved up in a gentle smirk. "What were you thinking about you were so concentrated?"

She immediately grinned at the sight of him. She wanted to melt right there in his arms as she stared at his handsome face, taking in every single one of his perfectly defined features, his seething, cold, and yet gentle eyes, his long fine blond hair. He was dressed in clean formal robes, in the brown shades of the earth, and the majestic crown of silver leaves rested regally atop his head.

"How was your journey?" She asked ignoring his previous question, not able to resist herself as she leaned against him, feeling him turn slightly to accommodate her better.

"It went well. Nothing particularly interesting." The light sensation of his breath on her temple as he spoke made a new set of flutters run through her stomach. He was so strong, she could almost feel the perfect muscles of his chest and arms underneath the rich fabric of his robes. She had never been this close to him, and yet she felt so comfortable there, leaning against him.

"What were you talking to my father about?" She demanded, unable to contain herself any longer as she sat straight again. He did not move, only arching a fair eyebrow questioningly, the smirk on his face reflecting the sparkle of his impenetrable ice blue eyes.

"I should have guessed you would ask." He said with a light laugh. Valar, he looked so powerful, simply so royal, and yet his eyes were gentle as they stared at hers, not the cold searing stare of the King. "Well, if you _must_ know, Alarya, I have asked for your father's consent to court you."

She felt stunned for a second, not finding her words. Elbereth, how could _that_ have gone? She had known Thranduil would eventually need to ask her father to court her, as it was customarily done. They could not be seeing each other only in this terrace for the rest of eternity! And even if they did, sooner or latter rumors would start either way. And yet, part of her had continuously tried to avoid the thought of telling her parents.

"What did he say?" She tired her best to not sound edgy as she spoke, keeping her head high.

"Are you nervous, Alarya?" He grinned, piercing ice blue eyes teasing her. _Of course_ he had read through her eyes.

"Well of course I am." She answered rather impatiently, producing only a light chuckle as his answer.

Then he leaned closer to her, the gleam in his iced eyes enough to nearly paralyze her heart. "Do _I_ make you nervous?"

"Thranduil, answer my question."

He raised an eyebrow at her commanding tone, his smile never leaving his handsome face. "Patience is _not_ your virtue."

"Rumor has it that it is not yours either, _your Majesty_."

He laughed at that, and she felt him gently place the lightest of kisses on her cheek, the feeling of his lips as they brushed her skin making shivers run down her body. When his eyes met hers again, they were no longer playful and light, but a deep piercing blue, so infinite and serene, and yet so intense and powerful. His were the most fascinating eyes in all of Arda, both cold as the sharpest ice and at the same time burning as the wildest of fires, and yet they could prove to be so gentle and soft, like the warm caress of the sea swirling behind impenetrable glass irises.

"He has granted his consent under the condition that I also had _your_ consent." He said finally, his voice as calmed as his searing eyes.

"Well, my Lord, it seems you now find yourself in a very difficult situation." She mocked him, enjoying the smile that adorned his face.

And then, his lips found hers, making her heart flutter widely. For all she cared, they could place on a throne right now, facing the entire realm as they gossiped about her and threw glances at her every move, and she would not care if she knew she would have Thranduil by her side.

"And you have nothing to worry about." He said as they broke apart, his palm lightly resting on her cheek. "It is not as if I will suddenly call attention to you and you will have maids following your every step. I just needed to warn your parents first for as you know this is an unusual situation and whether I want it or not the entire realm will react to it. I will not make anything official or suddenly ask you to sit by me at the dinner table unless you want me to or until you feel ready for that."

She kissed him again, suddenly feeling more relieved than she had the whole week. He would let the rumors spread slowly, letting the elves get used to it, get used to her, before formally placing her on the spot. And she would let the rumor spread, she could not care less. So far the only ones that would officially know of their relationship would be her parents –and maybe perhaps Doronor, he seemed to be the King's right hand. The rest of the realm would only know from what they saw and heard. It would not be easy to start getting stares, to unofficially let the kingdom know of their relationship, but she was up for it, Valar she was up for every single second of it.

"Now, I have some other matters I need to attend, but I will see you at dinner." He smiled as he spoke, rising to his feet, once again looking so tall and elegant it was dazzling. She nodded her head, mirroring his smile as placed another light kiss on her cheek before heading back inside the Palace, once again the King of Mirkwood.

It resulted an extremely hard task to hide her idiotic smile as she made her way back to her family's chambers. Valar, she felt like dancing, like twirling and singing and twirling again, but she somehow managed to keep a steady and graceful walk, appearing much more clamed than she felt. And yet, as she opened the door and stepped inside her family's private sitting room she wanted to run back out again.

Both her father and her mother were sitting on the large elegant couch, their eyes darting in her direction as she stepped inside, both of them looking as if they had just been smacked hard in the face. Her father looked stern, perplexed, but her mother looked completely stunned, her eyes gleaming with a strange light, as if she would either jump in delight or suffer a heart attack.

"So I have spoken with King Thranduil."

Her father was the one to speak, seeming the only one to be _able_ to speak. Oh, yes. The hardest part was only starting for her.

Here is chapter 6! I hope you enjoy it, and I definitely hope the wait was not too long! Please let me know what you think! I will update as soon as possible!

Again, thank you so much to those of you who reviewed my latest chapter, I really can't tell you how much I appreciate all of your comments! The Lead Mare, Lady of 3ar, jadedks, BigFanOfYou, XxNaiXx, Kirschflower, .77, R2-D2106, legolas-jj, AmazingWriter123, Nowa1, wonderpanda10, xX-MissyMoo-Xx, Mary Elrondile, Wtiger5 and my guest reviewer!

Love,

Elena


	7. Storm

A strong gush of wind flew from the open balcony, a couple of the elves in the room moving quickly enough to place their hands on the papers and maps before they were sent flying through the study. Letting out a silent sigh, the Elvenking rose from his seat at the large rounded table, absently waving a hand for the rest of the elves, who had risen when he did, to sit back down. Making his way towards the overly large balcony, the King of Mirkwood pulled the various pairs of doors that led to it closed, the crystals in them protesting in loud cries against the abusive handling from the raging wind outside.

"It is getting bad outside." He heard his advisor, Doronor, comment just as he made his way back to the table holding the meeting.

The sky outside was packed with heavy black clouds, blocking the light of the day to a point in which they had needed to light the fireplaces and candles against the dull grey light. The wild cries of the wind announced a storm approaching, and by the forceful way in which the trees swayed, it was going to be a violent one.

"It will get worse." The Elvenking added as he lowered himself to his seat letting his eyes study detailed maps laid out of the table in front of him for what seemed like the hundredth time that afternoon. He could sense the trees' warning, could sense the strength of the storm that would be upon the m within short minutes.

The meeting had started a couple of hours ago, and still they had not reached a solution on the repositioning of patrol routes. It was going to be a long meeting, he could tell, but it not that what had him wanting to run out of the elegant study. Oh, no. It was a particular Lord he had hopelessly wishing he could avoid for at least a couple of more days. Yes, Lord Lasgaer, who so happened to be Alarya's father was currently sitting two spots to his right.

Only thinking about the last time he had seen the respected warrior –two days ago- made him feel overly uncomfortable. That had by far been the most awkward situation he had yet been, and the Valar knew he had been in many awkward situations before. He could still perfectly remember the look on Lord Lasgaer's face when he had asked him to court his daughter. The warrior had looked so perplexed that he had honestly thought he had not believed his words were true. But then again, neither of them had known how to act at the moment. He had never felt as clueless and small as he had done that afternoon. And much to his further despair, Lord Lasgaer had seemed as lost as him. It was as if for a second neither of them knew which should show respect to which. He was the King after all, but then again Lasgaer was Alarya's father.

Oh, Valar, he did not want to think about that meeting, but it had been more than necessary. He knew the rumors about him and Alarya would not take long to start travelling through the intricate walls of his Palace, and it would be overly disrespectful, not to mention humiliating, to permit Lasgaer finding out that way. Still, it felt just too strange for his comfort to be sitting in this meeting with that specific elf. Did the warrior even know that as soon as the meeting was over he would be most probably kissing and hugging his daughter? And yet, he managed to remain as composed and regal as he always did, not an inch less of the mighty King he was.

He had not spoken to Alary about whether or not her father had said something to her about their meeting. He was sure he had, although Alarya had not yet commented on it. But truth was, he did not really want to know. Part of him felt scared of what the renown warrior might do to him. Oh, but why was he scared? No he was not scared, he could not be. He was King! …But he was Alarya's father.

The wind hit threateningly once more against the crystals of the windows, causing many heads to turn in that direction. It had finally started to rain, the heavy drops of water drumming loudly against the windows, slow at first but quickly picking up until it seemed they would shatter the crystals from the force. King Thranduil was about to continue with the meeting when a fallen branch suddenly smashed against one of the windows, cracking the crystal as it did.

"We will continue at a different time." He rose to his feet as he spoke, his wine red robes falling elegantly around him as his ice blue eyes danced over the faces off the five elves at the table. All of them had also stood as he did, a customary show of respect that he thought overly unnecessary. "I would deem it wise to get out of this room and as far away from windows as possible."

The elves gathered in the meeting- all of them high-ranking warriors- bowed at their dismissal, producing a chorus of "Of course, Your Majesty" and "Yes, My Lord". He watched them quickly exit the room, leaving him alone with Doronor and Cunir, his two closest advisors.

"My Lord, you should go somewhere with less windows." Doronor said, moving to stand at his right side just as another rush of wind shook the many crystals in the room, threatening to blow away the delicate doors of the balcony. It was impossible to see anything out the long arched windows, only the heavy water running down like waterfalls. The Elvenking nodded his head, not wasting any more time as he started to make his way towards the large pairs of doors.

"Cunir." He called after him and the advisor and captain quickly stepped to his side, walking at his same pace. "Send order for every window, door and balcony to be closed. I want every elf in the Palace to head into underground levels."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Was Curnir's answer before he immediately set out into mobilizing guards, quickly spreading his orders through the large building.

Without a second thought, King Thranduil stepped out of his study, Doronor at his heels as the two of them made their way through the labyrinthine corridors with haste. Mostly the entire Palace was made of long pointed windows, balconies and open corridors and terraces, thus making the underground levels the only place he could be sure a fallen branch or a broken window would bring no harm to anyone.

The corridors outside his study were already packed with elves, rushing in every direction, all of them seeming to be very busy in completing a task. He could see guards mobilizing elves through the hallways, checking every room so that no one would stay behind. Rarely did they get storms as violent as this one, but whenever they did he did not attempt to fight it. He was not as fool as to try to fight nature. Sometimes, it just needed to follow its natural course. Nonetheless if things became dangerous for his people and would not hesitate to call upon the old magic he wielded.

"My Lord." He turned his head just in time to see Cunir catching up with him as he started to make his way down an ample staircase. "I have been informed that the level of the river has risen considerably, there is a large possibility of flooding."

Oh Valar, that underground river! He had entirely forgotten about it. Just one more thing to worry about now. It seemed that all the possible broken windows and things that might go flying around was not enough. Oh, no. Now he would have to deal with a flood as well. At least the river ran so deeply underground that he was entire sure the flood would not reach the chambers where his people would be taking shelter.

"Make sure that area is clear then. Do not worry about the river, simply make sure that no one is around. If it floods, it floods." Was his answer as he continued his way down the stairs. Another small branch smashed against a nearby window, making a group of maids passing by to jump and cry out in surprise.

He did not even notice Cunir rounding a corner in a rush for a sudden flash of bright distracted his thoughts, followed by the loud, earth-wracking sound of a thunder. He could see the masses of elves heading down the stairs at a quicker pace now, eager to reach the safety of the undergrounds. His ice blue eyes scanned through the rushing elves over and over again, as they had since the moment he had left his study, searching for a particular golden haired Lady he had not yet seen. But why was he worrying? Alarya was most probably already downstairs.

"Your Majesty, please continue. You must get downstairs before this storms breaks all the windows." He heard a guard say to his left and only then did he realize he had stopped walking, simply searching through the crowds of elves. To his slight surprise he also realized that it was no longer Doronor the only one accompanying him but also a group of guards who seemed intent in making sure he reached a safe room to wait out the storm. The Elvenking fought the urge to glare at the guards following his every step now. Nothing was going to happen to him!

"Where is Alarya? Have you seen her?" He asked Doronor in a low voice, knowing for sure that no other elf but his friend would be able to hear him.

"No, My Lord."

A dreadful feeling crept through his body at his advisor's answer. No. Alarya was fine. She was downstairs with her parents and cousins. She had to be. Besides, the Palace was really a safe place, the only potential danger were the crystal if the wind or a branch suddenly broke them. Sending his people to the lower levels of the Palace was simply a precaution. Alarya was fine. She was perfectly fine.

They were making their way down another flight of stairs when a sight below caught his full attention. A lady was pushing against some guards, who were pulling her away from the exit into one of the Main Terraces. The lady seemed intent to stay in the terraces regardless of the fierce rainwater that was already soaking the entire floor and furniture in them. He could see her eyes frantically searching past the guards and towards the gardens outside as she said something quickly to another elf that was helping the guards. His heart skipped a beat as he recognized them immediately. It was Alarya's mother, and the other elf he was sure was one her cousins, although he did not know his name.

"What is the matter?" He demanded as he hurried to them, throwing a look at the guards that meant his question should be answer immediately.

"My cousin Alarya is outside in the gardens, my Lord. She went for a walk earlier before the storm hit and has not yet returned." The elf he did not know the name of explained.

What! Alarya was where! A sudden fear built in the pit of his stomach, feeling as if someone had smacked him hard in the head. He could see the lady's scared eyes turn in his direction, suddenly noticing his presence but he was no longer paying attention to her, his piercing eyes fixed on the elf who had spoken.

"Are you sure?" He asked quickly, his eyes nearly burning through the poor elf, but he could not care less at that moment. All he needed was an answer.

"Yes, my Lord."

The Elvenking did not even catch the look on the elf's face as he spoke for his feet were already guiding him out into the terrace, deliberately ignoring all the cries from his advisor and guards. Valar, what was she thinking?! Had she not noticed the simply _beautiful_ weather they had right now?! He was going to kill her! But then again the sudden fear he felt was like no other he remembered feeling before. What if something happened to her?

"My Lord! MY LORD!" He could hear Doronor calling out behind him just as he rushed down the few steps that led into the gardens, bot even turning to look. Let them come after him if they wanted to.

He walked as fast as he could, nearly running, having to lift the front of his robes so that he would not trip on them. Oh, Valar, what a useless garment that thing really was! The rain cut his face like daggers, making it nearly impossible to keep his eyes open as the wild wind slapped his hair across his face and neck. Water ran over the drowning grass, staining the ends of his robes and making his feet sink in the mud as he hurried through the trees, fighting against the violent wind, which kept trying to push him out of balance.

The trees cried loudly around him, protesting at the force of the storm, trying in vain to prevent their branches from shaking wildly in submission, leaves breaking from them and flying into the wind. But he did not stop. He needed to find Alarya. He needed to make sure she was all right. To his advantage he knew by heart all of her preferred routes for walks, and yet to his despair, he very well knew these routes were often deeper inside forest and too far away from the Palace to his liking. Why did she have to choose today to go for a walk!

"ALARYA!" He yelled over and over again, but the sound of his voice was drowned by the heavy curtain of rain.

The trees kept crying to him, able to feel his presence through the forest, guiding him, telling him to go left or right, seeming to know exactly what he was looing for. He followed their voices, their sounds sometimes lost in the drumming rain or the echo of a loud thunder. He wavered suddenly as he stepped on a particularly slippery large rock, sliding dangerously, and had it not been for his elven balance was sure he would have fallen.

His heart raced inside his chest, every step he took becoming more urgent. Where was she? Why had he not found her by now? Was she all right? The storm continued to rage around him. He very well knew that it was not safe to be outside right now, but honestly he could not care less. He continue to rush through the thick tree trunks, his narrowed eyes turning from left to right desperately, trying to see through the cutting rain.

Suddenly his eyes caught something different in the forest, something that he did not quite remember. Some distance ahead of him he could see a steep declivity, angry rainwater flowing down it like a waterfall, dragging the mud and grass with it. He did not need to think to immediately know what had happened. The large amount of water had caused the land and rocks that lined the riverside to slide down. It would not be the first time such a thing happened. He rushed in its direction, unprepared for the sight that met his eyes.

Alarya lay curled against the muddy wall, almost halfway in between the edge of the dent and the angry black waters below. Both of her hands gripped tightly to some roots left uncovered by the slide, her small body shaking visibly. Her hair and dress were drenched, covered in the mud that continued to slide down the new slope. His heart nearly stopped, an irrational fear taking possession of him.

"Alarya!" He yelled as he instantly rushed as close to the edge as he dared. Her large green eyes flew in his direction, although she did not move an inch. She looked absolutely terrified, the simple fear in her eyes making him want to jump down to her side and get her, but he knew it was not that easy and he was not that of a fool.

How long had she been lying there? He needed to get her out. If the land continued to slide she would surely fall into the river, and if that happened his probabilities of successfully taking her out of the water were less than slim.

"Do not move! I will go down!" He instructed, quickly inspecting the slope to find the steadiest parts to reach her.

Slowly, he started climbing down the slope, careful with the rocks that seemed too loose of the bits of land that continued to break from the mass and die inside the furious grasp of the river. He had no idea how they were going to get back up, but if there was something he was absolutely sure of was that Alarya would not move by herself, she was simply too frightened, nearly paralyzed.

He finally reached her side, his body carefully pressed against the slope so that he would not continue to slide down. His ice blue eyes quickly scanned her for any visible injuries, feeling only slightly relieved when he found none. She was shaking so violently, he wanted to wrap is arms around her but feared that that way if he slid further down he would pull her with him and he did not want to risk that.

"Are you hurt?" He asked the minute he reached her side and she shook her head as a reply. "Can you move?" He received a nod this time.

"Alarya we need to climb back up." He stared into her frightened green eyes as he spoke, trying in vain to calm some of her fear with a steady voice. "You have to be very careful of where you step. I will be behind you if you slip."

She simply shook her head no, not moving an inch from where she was, gripping at the protruding root like a lifeline.

"Alarya, I cannot carry you back up. You need to climb. I will be right behind you." He tried again but all he received as another shake of her head. They had no time to waste, if the land continued to slide they both would end at the mercy of flooded river.

"Alarya, listen to me." His eyes searched hers, preventing her from looking away as they stressed his words, one of his hands moving to rest over hers. "The land _will_ slide again. We need to get up before it drags us both down with it."

Scared large green eyes remained fixed on his for a moment, as if she was slowly processing his words, coming awake from her frozen state. Valar, why could he not just tell her she was safe? That was all we wanted to do, and yet knew that it was not the case. He would call on the forest if it became necessary, he could already hear the cries of the trees inside his head, the surge of energy through his veins that told him he had already ignited the connection. If he called the trees would answer, but he did not want to do that unless their situation became dire. He would not resource to his powers unless they had no other option.

Finally Alarya nodded her head, the usual strength and determination suddenly returning to her forest green eyes. He watched her attentively as she slowly release one hand from the root, carefully moving upwards to find something else to pull herself up. Slowly she started climbing up the steep slope, grabbing on the many pieces of rocks and occasional branches or roots. He followed her closely, ready to catch her if she fell. The heavy rainwater continued to make the dark brown mud run, causing some of the small stones to roll downhill and into the river below.

Then everything happened so fast he did not even have time to register it all. Suddenly, the slope beneath them shook, the mud and stones becoming free from the earth and rolling down, dragging everything with they could with them. There was nothing to hold on to, every stone every root or branch was loose, falling downhill into the water. He heard Alarya let out a cry and he felt his own arms wrapping around her, pressing her as tight to his chest as he could, his body shielding over hers as they rolled down. He could not tell what was up and what was down, small and medium sized rocks blanketing over them, hitting him on their way down.

An unexpected sharp pain exploded in his right knee as he hit one of the largest stones, but that was the least of his worries. All of his concentration lay on the sudden call he had released into the forest, a familiar tingling feeling burning through his veins as he felt the power of the connection like a wracking thunder. It hit him hard, harder than it usually did. He felt as his mind had been suddenly pulled into a wild maelstrom, pulling him in every single direction and he had to fight hard to resist all of those forces that were begging a bit of his energy. He knew it would be this way. The forces of nature were too powerful in this storm. He had little time before he needed to break the connection.

Then, there it was, just what he had aimed for. Suddenly a thick branch flew in their direction, the wood cracking as it stretched unnaturally, the many green leaves slapping against it widely in the wind. He felt his body fall against it, perfectly nesting in between the creaks and twigs, Alarya still securely held against his chest. The cries of the forest became louder inside his head and he pulled away this time, breaking the connection in a quick move, barely aware of the robust tree crawling its branches over their heads in a secure shelter. The wracking forces of nature abandoned him just as suddenly as they had reached him, leaving him slightly dizzy, but he had no time for that.

The tree was helping them climb up, its thick branches making a bridged for them and he immediately jumped to his feet, as steadily as he could in the wind and rain. He held Alarya with one arm, her body clinging to him, as he used to other to grab to other branches. In matter of seconds his feet landed once again on the muddy ground, finally at the top of the slope. A look down told him that a large part of it had been dragged down into the river, the entire portion where they had been trying to climb some moments ago completely vanished.

He set Alarya lightly on her feet, keeping one arm secure around her as he started to guide her in the direction of the closest tree trunk. The wind slapped his face hard, tangling his drenched hair with Alarya's golden one. Sit down. That was what his mind and body kept screaming at him. He needed to sit down. He led Alarya to sit against the wide trunk, the thick roots that protruded from the ground providing a perfect shelter against the wind. He watched Alarya's small form curl up against the tree and he dropped himself next to her. The ancient tree gently curled its roots around them, and he was very well aware it could feel his weakened state. He was only glad Alarya seemed too shaken still to notice anything, giving him some minutes to regain some of his strength.

"Are you all right?" He asked her, cupping her cold cheek in his hand as his eyes once again scanned her for any visible injuries.

She nodded her head slowly. "Yes."

She was shaking, her voice trembling as much as her small body. He rested his forehead against hers, holding her as she suddenly wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling her relax slightly as he gently rubbed circles on her back. Valar, he had been so worried! What on Arda had she been doing outside in the first place! But right now, that question did not really matter to him, all he cared what she was fine.

The rain still drummed on the muddy grass, an occasional thunder lighting the entire forest, but finally the wind seemed to have receded slightly. As gently as he could, he scooped her up in his arms, her body weighing nearly nothing as he rose to his feet. Slowly he started to make his way back towards the warm and dry Palace, ignoring the constant throbbing of his right knee as he walked.

The walk back was calmed and uneventful, the cascading rain washing away the mud from his face and part of it from his hair. Alarya did not move once, her arms remaining locked around his neck as she hid her face on his shoulder. No sooner had the first terraces of the Palace become visible when a bunch of elves were already over them, taking Alarya from his arms and wrapping some dry blankets over his shoulders as many arms led him inside. It was hard to tell what was happening with all of these healers and guards hovering around.

"Is she all right?" "Is she injured?" He could hear some of the healers asking as they hovered over Alarya, the latter finally on her feet once more. He caught sight of Lord Lasgaer quickly holding his daughter, and he thought he saw one of the cousins too but he was not sure, his attention flying back to all of the guards constantly saying "Your Majesty, are you hurt?" "Do you need anything, my Lord?"

The Elvenking lifted a hand commandingly, all of their questions suddenly stopping at his movement as he allowed Doronor to lead him further inside the Palace, some guards ahead of them opening the way through the many curious eyes and whispers that followed. He spared one last glance in Alarya's direction, content to find her still in her father's arms. Lasgaer's eyes met his and then slowly, very slowly the warrior inclined his head in thanks, a movement missed by everyone but him. He nodded his head once, watching the faintest of smiles appear on the respected warrior's face before he turned his eyes once again to the front, following Doronor through the long hallways of his Palace.

Some hours later, King Thranduil found himself comfortably reclining on a couch inside the elegant Sitting Room in the Private Quarters of the Palace while a pair of healers carefully placed some hot towels beneath his aching right knee. The injury was nothing remotely serious but _of course_ the healers had insisted on treating it. Valar, he had to admit the warmth felt wonderful on his throbbing limb. He had already bathed and dressed in a clean simple – relatively simple of course – light tunic. His hair, which also been washed and neatly combed, fell loosely behind his back as he currently lay on the couch, prey of Melnor's multiple and unnecessary examinations for any broken bones.

"Are you comfortable there, my Lord?" One of the two healers treating his leg asked as they finally finished accommodating the hot towels beneath his knee. Comfortable? He had been comfortable for hours by now.

"Yes, thank you." He managed not to sound annoyed in the slightest as he spoke, glad as Melnor finally stepped away from him, finished with his examinations.

"Would you like me to bring you anything, my Lord?" The head healer asked, his eyes indicating in the direction of his knee.

"Wine." Was his answer, even though he very well knew the healer meant if he wanted something for the pain. Nonetheless, Melnor let out a single silent chuckle before nodding his head at one of the servants in the room, the latter immediately leaving to fetch the requested drink.

"Let me know if you feel any discomfort." The head healer added with a respectful bow before he and the two other healers exited the room, leaving him alone with Doronor, who had remained standing quietly some distance away, dark blue eyes mocking him with words he knew the advisor would not dare say. He felt tired and sore and in no mood to hear his friends teasing comments, but thankfully for him Doronor seemed to know this very well, for he continued to remain quiet.

Moments later the servant returned with a cup filled of the reddest wine, as well as a tray with a light meal and some fruits. He nodded to the young servant elf in both thanks and dismissal before turning his piercing ice blue eyes back to his advisor.

"I will let you rest, my Lord." His friend said with a slight bow of the head, easily understanding the look in his eyes, however the tone in his voice and the faint smile on his lips told him that he would hear about his earlier actions the next day.

The Elvenking simply remained lying on the couch. He felt too comfortable to move and the wine tasted overly soothing in his tired state. He had been informed some time earlier of the damages caused by the storm and thank the Valar they had been few. There had been no injured, even with the many crystals that had shattered under the stress of the wind.

A timid knock on the large pairs of wooden doors pulled him out of his thoughts. At first, he simply felt confused. No elf ever came looking for him while he was in his private chambers, only Doronor did, and the advisor did not bother knocking, let alone this shyly. The door opened a crack, and a familiar pair of large forest green eyes peeked through it, finding his immediately.

"May I come in?" He heard Alarya's soft voice asking and he could read in it that she was really asking for permission. As if he could ever deny it to her!

"Of course." He answered almost instantly, sitting up on the couch as he watched her slowly walk inside the room, closing the door behind her.

"Doronor informed me I would find you here." She explained as she walked in his direction. But of course. Who else would it have been? She too had bathed and changed into a clean deep blue dress, looking as elegant and radiant as she always did, and yet for the first time she looked somewhat shy, her large green eyes looking about the room as if she felt she should not be there.

"I was told you were resting." He brought her attention back to him, watching her flash him one of her flawless smiles.

"I could not sleep." Was her answer as she lowered herself on the couch next to his outstretched legs, her body facing him. Then he saw her eyes quickly fall on carefully placed towels behind his knee before her green irises returned to meet his.

"Are you hurt?" She suddenly asked but he waved her worries off with a movement of his hand.

"I am fine." Whether or not she believed him he could not tell but she dropped the subject. Then her eyes traveled over him, studying his appearance.

"You look just like you did the day I met you." She chuckled and he let one of his hands travel to hers, their fingers lacing together.

"You mean un-kingly?" He raised an eyebrow as he spoke and she smiled widely, reminded of that particularly amusing episode.

"No." She defended herself, her green eyes sparkling so vividly he wanted to never have to look anywhere else. "I mean handsome." She leaned forward and placed her lips against his in a gentle kiss.

"Now you are just trying to make up for that." He added, not resisting himself as he placed another kiss on her lips.

"Is it working?" She laughed, brushing her lips against his as she spoke. Valar, she had no idea of what she could do to him.

"Surprisingly well." He managed to say before kissing her again, pulling her down until she was lying half on top of him and half on the couch. She laughed again, trying to pull away from him as he nuzzled his nose against her neck, feeling her body trembling slightly at his touch. Then, her large emerald eyes met his, so vast and warm, her body so small against his, her playful smile vanishing from her face.

"I wanted to thank you, Thranduil." She said, but he did not need her to thank him for anything. Her large green eyes looked somewhat guilty, a look he hated seeing in those forest green orbs.

"No need for that." He said in return, his voice merely a whisper, causing her small smile to widen slightly, but the look in her emerald eyes did not change. He leaned in, placing a quick kiss on the tip of her nose. "If you really want to thank me you can stroke my hair."

That made her laugh, her fingers moving to travel down his long hair in the soothing way he so adored. His eyes fell closed at her touch and he heard her let out another chuckle.

"Do not fall asleep on me." She warned, causing him to open his eyes again with a smile.

"Then you better stop that."

He stopped her hand, shifting on the couch so that she could accommodate herself better next to him. She placed her head on his chest, her body suddenly relaxing as he wrapped his arms around her. And then he understood why she had come looking for him. She was still shaken, still scared. The entire riverside had crumbled beneath her feet, nearly dragging her down into the river and she had been lying there on the mud holding onto a small protruding root for who knows how long before he found her. Why had he not seen that? Of course rest would not come easily to her tonight. He did not say anything else, simply holding her gently as she lay next to him, waiting for her nerves to calm, for her fears to slowly fade.

It was not until hours later when he heard her sleepy voice saying faintly "I am preventing you from going to bed" that he finally spoke again. "I have always found this couch particularly comfortable." And he could not explain how much he meant that, for lying on this constricted space with her in his arms was resulting far more comfortable than all the many feathered pillows and warm blankets on his overly large bed.

Here is chapter 7! Sorry for the long wait! I hope you enjoy it! Please let me know what you think!

Also, again thank you so so much to those of you who reviewed my latest chapter! ShueYun, Martine9295, call-me-joy, wonderpanda10, Leala, The Lead Mare, Jibril-Kadamon, Coco99, XxNaiXx, Kirschflower, Nowa1, Alatariel Oronar, R2-D2106, wtiger5, Mary Elrondile, AmazingWriter123, Loki Ibn-La'Ahad, ForbiddenShadow0, 77, and jadedks.

Love,

Elena


	8. Yield

"Alarya! Could you _please_ stand still?"

Her mother scolded for the fourth time that afternoon, making the reluctant daughter stand straight almost immediately. Truth was, Alarya did not especially enjoy her dress fittings, almost unable to stand perfectly still for so long while maids roamed around her, measuring the length on her new dress. Out of the corner of her eyes she could see her mother eyeing her carefully, occasionally giving the maids a comment or an opinion. Valar, any on looking eye would believe the dress was for her and not for her daughter!

Not that she was complaining. Oh, no. The dress was absolutely stunning. The rich green fabric was the lightest she had ever seen, falling all the way down to the floor in a weightless dance, where the two maids were currently marking the pattern in which tiny white pearls would be sewn. Oh, yes. She would not complain about the dress. But then again, she could not hold back a chuckle as her mother once again threw a look that meant to stand straight and not move.

"Alarya! I will not say it one more time."

Alarya did not answer, simply smiling at her mother apologetically before concentrating once more on standing still. Not that she was not trying to please her mother, she was really trying, but standing still for so long was just so boring. Besides, she knew her mother was especially pushy for other reasons at the moment.

Her mother, Lady Laessel was usually an overly patient and calmed lady, always elegant and of sweet personality. And yet, it seemed that since the moment her mother had learned about her relationship with King Thranduil a month ago, she had been nearly always on the edge, as if she could just not get peace of mind for even a single second.

She did not blame her. Her mother was not the only one that had been on edge lately. Her father had been overly thoughtful the past month, less talkative than usual. He had not been angry or opposed to her seeing anyone- as she had feared he would be- but then again he did not look entirely elated. No. At times he appeared content and at others he just seemed fearful, sad. Then again, she knew she was their only daughter, and only child after the death of her older brother. And yet again, the fact that it was none other than the Elvenking the one courting her seemed a reality her parents could not manage to visualize.

Alarya could perfectly remember that conversation with her parents the day Thranduil had asked to court her. Oh, Valar. If there was one memory she really wanted to perpetually erase from her mind, it was precisely that conversation. Oh, but what conversation? It could not even be called a conversation. Mostly, nobody spoke. Her mother had seemed to have lost her ability to speak, and her father had simply had a very hard time in between identifying Thranduil as his King or as the ellon who was courting his daughter. She had simply sat there awkwardly as her father threw stern glances at her, as if trying to find a reason to be angry with Thranduil but finding none. Oh, only thinking of that conversation made her shudder.

A knock on the opened door pulled her out of her thoughts just as she heard her mother sweetly greeting her father as the latter walked into the room.

"That dress is looking beautiful, Alarya." Her father said as he approached.

"You think?" She returned his smile, allowing herself to gently twirl around for him to fully see the dress. Her father seemed to be in a good mood that afternoon, and she most definitely did not want to spoil it. Her father simple nodded his head as a reply, with a hand dismissing the two maids who had _finally_ finished their work on the bottom of her dress.

"Go change, my child, so that the dress can be finished." Her mother added in a gentle a tone- a thing that had proven to be _very_ unusual that afternoon- placing a soft kiss on her husband's cheek. Alarya did as told, not wasting a single second of her mother's returned patience.

"Agarben will also be joining us for summer's solstice." She heard her father telling her mother just as she rejoined them in the large family room they shared at the Palace. Ah, so it was the upcoming celebration what had her father in this peaceful good mood.

Unlike the winter's solstice celebration, in which the elves of the Greenwood gather at a grand feast in the Palace, summer's solstice tended to be more of a family thing. Families would gather together for a long lunch in the middle of the day – a meal that extended into late hours of the night, until the sun has finally set in the horizon. It was nothing unusual for her uncle, Lord Agarben, and his family to join them for this particular celebration. They always celebrated summer's solstice in her house out in the green forests of Mirkwood, and a smile crossed her face as she understood that this year would be no different.

True, they had moved to reside in the Palace, but that did not mean that their house was not still there, nor that it was now entirely empty. Oh, no. All the servants that had resided there and worked for her father were still there, and the house was still kept clean and habitable. In fact, it was not unusual for her family to spend a couple of days in that house – for some peaceful time in the company of the forest- and then return to their chambers in the Palace.

"That is wonderful news." Her mother added. Oh, yes, her mother was suddenly in a good mood. This was her chance, she knew it. She would not get another opportunity in which both of her lately very stressed parents were in such a pleasant mood.

"Is it all right if King Thranduil joins us as well?"

Two pairs of eyes suddenly flashed in her direction. Oh, Valar, she had done it. Oh, yes. She had just managed to ruin her parents' good mood in a single second. She had referred to him as '_King_ Thranduil', knowing that both of her parents seemed uncomfortable whenever she referred to the Elvenking as simply 'Thranduil'.

"What?" Her mother asked while her father stated a firm "No."

"Lasgaer!" Her mother hissed.

"What?" Was her father's whispered reply under her mother's rebuking gaze.

"What do you mean no? Of course he can join us!" Her mother continued to scold in a low voice. As if she could not hear what they were saying. "You send an invitation every single year!"

"Yes, of course he can, I would be honored if he joins our celebration!" Her father defended himself in the same whispered tone. "I send an invitation every single year!"

"Then why are you suddenly so reluctant?" Her mother hissed again. Oh, Valar, why had she even asked anything?

"Because he has a _motif _to come to _our_ celebration. I never truly expect him to accept our invitation, and if he ever had I would have been more than happy to receive him. But now he will come if only to spend time with _my daughter!"_

"As if you did not have motif to come to _my_ parents' summer solstice celebration when _you_ were courting _me_."

"It was _very_ different, Laessel."

"How was it different?"

"Well, for a start I was not your parents' _King_!"

"Why are you so against him coming?" she chimed in, once again causing her parents to focus their attention on her. Her father sighed, an apologetic expression crossing his face as he stared at her.

"I do not have anything against him coming, Alarya." His voice was soft now, honest, as if trying to make her understand his reasons were he already knew she would be biased in Thranduil's favor. "As I said, I would never refuse him an invitation. I would be happy to receive him. But he is my King, Alarya. I cannot simply have him as another one of my guests. What do I offer him? Wine that cannot even begin to be compared to his _Dorwinion_?"

"He will not _care_ what kind of wine you serve." Her voice was patient, offering her father a smile as she spoke. Valar, why was this so difficult! She had already known that it would take time for her parents to fully accept the idea that the King was courting their daughter.

"How do you even know he has not already receive an invitation to another celebration, and has already accepted to attend?" Her father's voice had receded to soft tone. A smile crossed her face. She knew that tone. Although only half-heartedly, her father had ceded.

"He will accept our invitation, Ada." She smiled as she spoke. Her father's face did not look hard anymore, and yet it did not look exactly please. But that was all right. She just needed his consent, and now she knew she had it. Her mother had simply fallen quiet, as if knowing that adding anything else to the conversation would only foment a new whole argument.

"Have you already asked him?" Her father question, suddenly looking defeated.

"No." She replied truthfully. She would not ask him if her parents did not agree, but she knew they would not do so without her giving a little push first.

"Then how do you even know he will wish to attend our celebration?" Her father walked in her direction as he spoke, making her feel like an elfling again, asking permission to her father to go wondering around the gardens.

"He will, Ada." She reassured him, placing a gentle kiss on her father's cheek as another sad look crossed her father's green eyes. "He will say yes."

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

"No."

"And _why_ not, Thranduil?" She pressed for what seemed like the thousandth time.

They had been arguing for over an hour by now and if there was something she had learned was that the Elvenking would not yield. And neither would she. Valar, why was he being so difficult!

"Because, Alarya." He said simply, not even bothering to repeat the many reasons he had previously explained to her again.

"Because is not a reason!" She protested. Oh, Valar why was he so stubborn?! Of all elves in Arda she had to have fallen for one that was precisely as obstinate as her!

His ice blue eyes met hers instantly, piercing through hers with an ease that made her want to tremble, but she did not. No. She stared back at him, eyes as inflexible as his. And yet, his eyes were not hostile, firm yes, but not harsh.

The bright light of the warm summer's afternoon danced inside his large study, casting odd and beautiful reflections on his pale blue elegant robes and kissing his long light blond hair with a touch of platinum. He looked so tall and powerful standing there at the large balcony, his sole presence seeming to exude an aura of royalty and authority she could not begin to understand, and at the same time adored of him.

"I truly appreciate your invitation, Alarya, but I cannot accept it. That is something I cannot do." He explained again, his hand reaching for hers but she immediately shook his away. Oh, she was angry now. And to her further ire, he smirked as she pulled away from him, as if he had expected that exact reaction from her part.

"_Why_ can you not do that, Thranduil? Why can you not accept my parent's invitation?" She continued to press. They had already gone through this same words five time already, but she would not be content unless he yielded….a thing she now knew for sure would most certainly not happen.

"Because I'm their King!" He protested again. Oh, Valar, here it was again. The same argument that her father had supported. "Do you have the slightest idea how uncomfortable that situation would be to your parents? Or to me? I do not wish to attend a celebration where my presence would make the hosts feel the need to serve me."

He walked back inside the elegant study as he spoke, giving his back to her as he absently started to sort out some papers over his large oak desk. She followed him inside. If he thought she was done arguing he was very _very_ wrong.

"As if you have never been a guest at a celebration before. How is this different, Thranduil?" She had lowered her voice to an angered hiss. Out of the corner f her eyes she could see Doronor going through some other papers at a nearby table, seeming to be ignoring their argument.

"Yes, I have been a guest at other celebrations and events at _other realms _where they are _expecting my presence_. There are always protocols, formalities and expectations, never a _family_ dinner at which I simply decide to make an appearance."

"But we _are_ expecting you!" She was loosing her patience. Oh, no. Who was she kidding. She had already lost it.

"Have you looked at my desk, Alarya!" He hissed in return, also at the end of his patience. "There are hundreds of invitations to summer solstice's celebrations. Do you think a single one of them is _really _expecting me to accept? They are sent out of politeness, and I still have to send my polite excuses to all of them, as I do every year. Yes, all of them will open their doors if I decide to show up, but mostly out of obligation. The moment I show up everyone offers their best behavior, their best food, their best drinks, gracious compliments, and suddenly a family lunch is turned into a formal event…thank you but no, I will not go."

"It will _not_ be a formal event!" She insisted for the hundredth time, her sharp green eyes searching for his ice blue ones to focus on her but he seemed to have suddenly lost focus on her.

"Alarya, I said no." He said flatly, his eyes suddenly looking thoughtful as if something else had called his attention, a had raised in a dismissive motion, as if silencing her. Oh, how dare he! She would not be silenced like an elfling! "If you wish for us to have a meal with your family I will be more than glad to receive you all in the private dinning room. You can pick the day and the cooks will prepare anything you wish."

"You are simply being selfish! You know that is not what I want!" She said again, walking closer to him. She grabbed at his shoulder, intent on turning him around to force his attention back to her, but he shoved her hand away sharply.

"Silence." His voice was low, carrying a command that for a second made her almost obey immediately. Silence?! Had he just silenced her?! King or not, she would not have anyone silence her like that!

"What is the matter with you?! That is plainly rude!"

"Alarya, be quiet." His ice blue eyes held a look of concentration she had never seen in them before, almost worried, alert. He did not even seem to mind her complain, as if she was not even relevant in comparison to whatever it was he was trying to concentrate on. Out of the corner of her eyes she could see Doronor rising to his feet, suddenly aware of his King's change in tone.

"No. This argument is far from over. You-

"Alarya, silence." He interrupted her mid-sentence making her want to simply yell at him as he raised his hand again commandingly.

"No, you will listen t-

She did not get to finish her sentence as his eyes suddenly shut tight, his handsome face suddenly contorting in an expression of agonizing pain. She froze, suddenly forgetting all of her anger. A cry of surprise and fright died at her mouth, her heart suddenly stopping inside her chest, not knowing what was happening. Thranduil leaned heavily on his desk, his hands gripping at its edges with a force she thought would break the polished wood. In a fragment of a second, Doronor was by his side, catching his King just in time as his knees buckled.

Alarya felt frozen, unable to move as fear rooted her feet to the exquisite carpet. She had no idea what was happening. Thranduil's eyes remained shut tight as he tossed and turned his head, as if trying desperately to get away from something, but she could not see what. She heard Doronor call out a name, and not even a second later one of the large pair of wooden doors opened as one of the guards outside quickly rushed into the room.

"Get Master Melnor. Be quick." The blond advisor instructed in a flat commanding voice, and she saw the guard's eyes widen in understanding for a second before leaving the room with haste, not even bothering to answer.

She remained standing where she was, her presence seemingly forgotten. She had never felt as useless as she did at that precise moment. Valar, she only wanted whatever was happening to Thranduil to be over! The only thought that partially tranquilized her was that Doronor seemed to know what was happening. He had lowered the Elvenking to the carpet, the later still tossing around, faced scrunched in pain. Thranduil's breathing had quickened, his entire body shaking violently. He did not seem aware of what was happening around him.

"My Lord! My Lord!" She heard Doronor calling, a hand firmly placed to the King's cheek, but all of his efforts seem to be in vain. "Thranduil!"

Her heart drummed at her throat. She had been scared many times in her life, and yet she had never felt as scared as she did at that moment. And yet what scared her most was the sudden surge of power she could almost feel floating around him, a sensation all to familiar to her. She did not know what it was. No. But she had felt it before. She had felt it the night he had rescued her out in the storm. The trees had behaved unnaturally. She could exactly tell what had happened that night, but she knew it had been his doing. After all, it was not unknown among the elves of Mirkwood that their King wielded powerful magic. By the Valar, the Mirkwood gates were an example of it!

Her heart drummed louder by the minute and she could see Doronor's eyes becoming more alarmed with every passing second. And still, nothing changed. Thranduil did not stop tossing, his eyes remained shut tight, his breathing way too quick for her liking. Alarya did not even know how much time had passed. Five minutes? Ten? She could not tell.

Then suddenly Thranduil went still. His body went limp on the carpet, still trembling visibly. His eyes were still closed, and for a torturing second she could not tell whether or not he was even conscious. She searched Doronor's eyes, trying to find reassurance in them, but found nothing that could even begin to tranquilize her. The advisor's eyes were glued on his King, not even turning in her direction once, but she did not care.

"Thranduil?" She heard Doronor calling, no longer caring for formalities or titles. "Can you hear me, my friend?"

The Elvenking did not answer, still breathing heavily. He looked pale, his skin suddenly an ashen color, and yet what worried her most was how absolutely drained he appeared. Alarya was sure she had never seen anyone look as exhausted as he did at that moment. It was as if something had simply sucked all of his energy from him.

Before Doronor could say anything else, the King suddenly turned on his side, propping himself up on his hands, and she saw the blond advisor react in a flash, pulling Thranduil's hair back as the latter heaved violently, emptying the contents of his stomach. She wanted to run to him, to do something to help him, anything, and yet she could not move. She could only watch helplessly as Thranduil's heaving faded into weak coughing before he collapsed back against Doronor, eyes closed tiredly, his body still shaking visibly.

As if on cue, the door to the study opened suddenly, and she turned her head to find the head healer – Melnor, she had learned- rushing into the room, kneeling down next to his King.

"How strong was it this time?" She heard the healer asking Doronor as his hands quickly grabbed at the Elvenking's right wrist, feeling for his pulse.

"Same as last time, if not worse. It lasted longer this time, about ten minutes." Came the advisor's quick answer, once again leaving her clueless as to what they were talking about. She felt invisible, a statue carved in stone, forgotten inside the elegant room.

The healer let go of the King's wrist with a sigh, shaking his head slightly, suddenly giving her the illusion that there was not much the healer could really do. She saw the healer continue to examine his King, checking his temperature and his breathing.

"I will prepare something to alleviate the migraine." Melnor added as he once again rose to his feet. "Lord Cunir has already send instructions for my King's chambers to be readied, and the guards have cleared the way for whenever he is ready to walk there."

"Now." The weak sound of the Elvenking's voice made all pairs of eyes turn in his direction.

"Of course, my Lord." Doronor nodded his head in response. Even in his weakened state, Thranduil's word would not be questioned.

Alarya could hardly believe he would be able to walk. In fact, she even doubted he would be able to stand on his feet. And yet, as always, he proved her wrong, slowly rising to his feet with the help of his advisor. She saw Melnor holding his King by his other arm, waiting for the latter to be steady on his feet before letting go. Thranduil had not opened his eyes once, his ice blue irises still hidden behind tightly shut eyelids. Then, with a nod of his head, the head healer headed out of the room, going to prepare the draught no doubt.

Doronor's dark blue eyes met hers, and for the first time in long minutes her presence was acknowledged. She did not need the advisor to speak for her to understand what the look in his eyes meant, and without thinking it twice she took hold of Thranduil's free arm, following Doronor as he led them out into the empty hallway.

They did not encounter a single elf as they made their slow way through the tall and majestic halls of the Palace. Much to her surprise, Thranduil walked more steadily than she had thought he would, although not once did he open his eyes. He did not seem entirely aware of her presence next to him either, but she did not care. All she cared about was the deep crease of pain in his brow, and the way in which his body continued to tremble, crushing her heart inside her chest. She still had no clue what had happened inside his elegant study, but all she wanted was for it to never happen again.

A new wave of nerves washed over her as they made their way up the grand staircase that led to the Private Quarters of the Palace. Part of her kept telling her to run away, that she should not be there. The King's chambers were off-limits to everyone- including her. And yet, she kept going, following Doronor through halls and corridors her eyes had never seen.

Finally, they reached a majestic pair of magnificently carved wooden doors, the two guards standing dutifully at its sides opening it wide for them to pass. They stepped into a spacious antechamber, furnished by many couches and seats, as well as an exquisite rounded table by the rich fireplace. It resulted hard for her to make out any shapes in the dark, as she found that all rich curtains –the color of which she could not really see- had been drawn closed over the multiple tall windows.

From there, the room opened into an ample bedchamber, and once again she found it hard to distinguish any shapes in the dark. She felt like an elfling, about to be chastised for entering a room that had been forbidden to her. She could see figures already inside the room as she followed Doronor in leading the King towards the overly large bed placed in the canter of it. The fine silk sheets had already been pulled down, and she watched helplessly as Thranduil lowered himself to sit on the soft mattress, a maid instantly walking over to free his long light blond hair from all of its braids.

She simply stood there, clueless, feeling utterly useless as she watched Melnor and another healer she did not recognize hover over their King, giving him a cup with steaming liquid and helping him down onto the overly soft pillows after he had finished the draught, placing a cool wet cloth over his forehead and eyes. She had barely even noticed that Doronor had walked to where she stood, waiting silently by her side.

"Is he all right?" Her voice was barely audible, a whisper she was sure no elf other than Doronor had been able to hear.

"He will be, after he has rested." The advisor reassured her in the same whispered tone. She could see the Elvenking raising a dismissive hand from the bed, all the maids and healers inside the room obeying immediately, leaving the room in complete silence.

"Did I…do anything?" Her large green eyes searched into Doronor's dark blue ones, voicing the question that had plagued her mind. "Was it my fault? He told me to be quiet, and I did not."

"No." The advisor's eyes were honest as he spoke, and yet she did not feel any better. "It was not you fault, my Lady."

Her eyes turned in the direction of the bed. The King of Mirkwood had not moved and inch. He looked so frail, so tired. She wanted to curl there next to him on the bed, to hold him in the same he had held all night long on that couch they night he had rescued her from the storm.

"I will go make sure everything is in order." The blond advisor told her as he turned to head out of the room, dark blue eyes looking at her in a dismissive manner. "My Lord needs to rest."

"I am not going anywhere." She whispered in return, her voice speaking her thoughts without her being able to control herself.

Then, to her surprise, Doronor's lips curved up in the faintest of smirks, a new sparkle gleaming in his serene dark blue eyes, and just for that split second she got the feeling that her words had been precisely the ones he had been expecting to hear. The blond advisor nodded his head, not saying anything else as he walked out of the room, his long formal robes tailing behind him with a deaf sound.

"My Lord suffers from a migraine and is not to be disturbed." She could hear Doronor informing the guards outside the door, but she was no longer paying attention to that. No. She only had eyes for the only other figure left in the room with her, the one that for the past months had become the center of her attention.

As gently as she could, Alarya sat on the edge of the mattress, trying to move as little as possible, knowing any king of movement will not help with his headache. Thranduil did not move, did not react in any way, his piercing ice blue eyes she so adored hidden underneath the cool cloth. She did the only thing she could think of doing, the only thing that she knew would soothe him as it always it, the only kind of comfort she could give that she knew he specially liked: She stroked his hair. Her delicate fingers travelled down his long light blond hair, as softly and tenderly as she could.

"Arya?" She heard Thranduil's whispered voice, one of his hands removing the cool cloth from his eyes to be able to look at her. It was not entirely new for him to call her by that shortened name, and still she once again felt the fluttering warmth that spread inside her body every time she heard him call her that. Dazzed sky blue eyes stared up at her, iced irises melted in an infinitely expanding tranquil sea, so gentle she wanted to melt into them, unable to look anywhere else. He seemed confused, drowsy. It would not be long until the draught sent him to sleep.

"Go to sleep." She whispered in a barely audible voice, pressing the softest of kisses on his cheek before replacing the cloth back over his eyes.

"Are we done arguing?" He asked, his voice sounding overly tired. Yes, it would not be long until he fell asleep.

"Not even close." She added with a slight chuckle, careful not to make any loud sound as to not disturb him. He did not answer, his lips curving up in a small smile.

She did not know for how long she sat there in the darkness of his bedchambers, watching the few rays of sunlight that filtered dimly through the curtains turned orange then red until finally disappear into the blackness of the night. She was oblivious to the many elves that carried on with their daily life outside in the grand halls of the Palace; oblivious to the trees whose melancholic lullaby danced in the gentle grasp of the wind; oblivious to her parents wondering where she was; oblivious to the tiny pinecone, painted in the palest shade of blue sitting right there in the same room as she, on top of a small table near one of the tall windows, the small card with her handwriting and signature neatly placed beside it.

Thranduil rested for most of the next day, falling in and out of sleep. She spent most of the day with him, in the tranquility of his chambers, somehow no longer feeling like an intruder in a private space. More than once he left her hanging mid-sentence, falling asleep to the sound of her voice, and she found herself simply talking non-stop whenever she started to notice him getting tired. She did not ask him about what had happened to him, did not ask what it was that had attacked the previous day, pushing into his mind with such a strength. There would plenty of time for him to explain. Their argument was never mentioned, already forgotten, and it was not until two days later that she even remembered their heated discussion, as her father returned to their family sitting room one afternoon carrying what seemed to be a written note in his hands, his green eyes, so much like hers, looking directly at her mother as he announced: "The King has accepted our invitation."

She did not know what she felt. Joy? Yes. But not the kind of joy one gets from winning. No. It was a different kind of joy, a different kind of feeling, accompanied by the same soothing warmth that filled her body every time he said her name. It was something deeper than joy, something she could not name. The King had yielded, and strange enough she did not find the fact that he would attend the celebration what caused her such joy. No. She could not care less about the celebration. It was the intention behind his action, the words she would read in between his acceptance what placed a smile on her face.

That night, as she stepped into her bedchamber, she found a single golden flower, one that only grew in the green forests of Mirkwood, waiting for her over her dresser, accompanied by a small note adorned by his elegant calligraphy.

_Next time it is your turn._

She could not contain the smile that drew on her face, almost hearing his voice mocking her as he wrote on the note. And yet, what truly made the smile on her face reach her eyes and stay there permanently for the rest of the night was the knowledge that he did not mean any single one of those words. It was not what was written in the note, but it was what she could read in it; what he had intended for her to read in it. For her, he would be willing to yield.

Finally here is chapter 8! Please let me know what you think! It is longer than I thought it would be, but I hope that can make up for the wait!

Again, I can't thank you enough to all those of you who reviewed my previous chapter, every single one of your words meant a lot to me, so again THANK YOU for making my day a little bit brighter: Jibril-Kadamon, DerangedOtakuFangirl, wonderpanda10, witch cat warg, Kirschflower, jadedks, XxNaiXx, Martine9295, R2-D2106, 77, Nowa1, Mary Elrondile, AmazingWriter123, The Lead Mare, and xX-MissyMoo-Xx. This chapter is especially for all of you!

Love,

Elena


	9. Summer

The soothing breeze of summer entered through the oversized balcony, waltzing to the rhythm the soft melody of the swaying trees outside. The warm rays of golden sunlight washed over the green forest outside, the vast blue sky devoid of any clouds. All kinds of wild birds chirped upon the branches, adding their songs to the multiple summer solstice's celebrations that were currently taking place all over the kingdom of Mirkwood.

King Thranduil stood inside his large bedchambers, tall and regal, dressed in formal robes of a rich olive color, the fabric falling gracefully all the way to the floor, embroidered in intricate patterns of golden thread and pearls. His long blond hair fell perfectly combed down his back and to his waist, tiny silver beads incrusted in his braids. The Elvenking wore no crown, the physical symbol of his status currently lay neatly on its opened cushioned box over his dresser. There would be no need for him to wear his crown today. He was already going to stand out enough at Alarya's _family's _summer solstice celebration. He definitely did _not_ need the crown to make the situation any more awkward.

The light sound of approaching footsteps made him turn his head towards the door where he caught sight of his closest friend and advisor appearing at the doorframe. Doronor bowed respectfully before entering the piece, stopping only some steps in front of him.

"Everything is ready, my Lord. Your escort awaits you." Said his advisor with a slight bow of his head. Those were precisely the words he had been vainly hoping would never come. He did not miss the silent smirk that crept over his friend's face as he spoke, and simply shot his iced eyes in his direction, a burning look that meant the advisor was not allowed to comment on the situation.

"Thank you, Doronor." He replied with a small nod, silently walking out of the comfort of his chambers as his advisor held the door open for him, still smirking remorselessly, although wise enough to keep his mouth shut.

The way down to the main entrance of the Palace seemed shorter than ever before. With every step he took forward he longed to take two steps back. Oh, Valar, he wanted the celebration to be over and it had not even started. Truth was, he had now idea what to expect, what he was supposed to do? Or to say? This simple family celebration challenged all of his knowledge. Elbereth! He would rather sit at a table full of dwarves. At least there he would know how to act!

A group of guards was already waiting for him at the main courtyard of the Palace, as expected, all of them bowing their heads respectfully as he approached. Silently, Thranduil made his way towards a young elf he did not know the name of, who was currently holding the reins of his horse, simply nodding his head politely as the elf relinquished the reins to his extended hand. He leaped effortlessly on the back of the magnificent white animal, draping his long elegant robes over his bent arm as he lifted the other, the gesture weightless, almost lazy, but it did not take any other kind of command from his part for the small party of guards to start their march.

Thranduil rode at the front, as he customarily did, and it took nearly all of his willpower to keep the horse going forward. Much to his chagrin, he knew the way to Alarya's house in the forest was not a long one, no matter how much he wished at that moment that her house was in Imladris, or Lorien, or somewhere far, far away, were he would not be able to make it in time for the celebration. Of course he had not told Alarya, but the main reason he was so reluctant about joining her celebration was that he, the mighty King of Greenwood the Great, did not _know_ how to attend such a simple thing as a family lunch. He was clueless, completely lost. He knew how to be King, how to rule, how to lead thousands of warriors in battle, how to deal with crisis, deal with orc raids, spiders and other things. He knew how to host large celebrations, how to entertain guests at his dinner table, how to behave as a guest at other realms, how to address another King, a Lord, a servant. It seemed utterly and enterily baffling that such a simple, easy thing as a casual lunch terrified him thus. Valar, why had he agreed to come? And yet, what really made him wish he could just escape back to the Palace was the sole thought that he would be forced to interact with Lasgaer. No, he would not think about that now.

He came to a halt once they had reached the main entrance of the large house where Alarya used to formerly reside. She and her family had left the Palace the day before, probably to make sure they had all the preparations readied for the celebration today. He had sent an escort of guards with them as well. Even though the path through his lands was entirely safe, he would rather not run the risk of anything happening.

The structure before his eyes was simple, and yet beautiful, in the same style as the rest of the houses that populated his realm. The house seemed to merge with the trees surrounding it, its many balconies and ample rooms hiding in the large towering branches, until it was nearly impossible to distinguish between the two. Lord Lasgaer and his wife were already outside by the time he gracefully dismounted his horse, the master of the house walking forward to greet him.

"My Lord" The renown warrior bowed his head as he spoke and Thranduil simply nodded his head politely in return, although part of him told him that this would not be the only formal greeting he would receive during this celebration. "It is a pleasure and an honor to receive you."

"The honor is mine." He replied in his calmed voice, turning his ice blue eyes in the direction of the warrior's wife, Lady Laessel, who was now curtsying with a wide smile on her fair face. The Lady seemed more relaxed than her husband about the situation.

"Welcome to our house, your Majesty." The fair Lady greeted gracefully. For the first time he noticed how much Alarya resembled her mother. Although she had the green eyes and golden hair of Lasgaer, her sheer elegance and tall presence was definitely from her mother.

"Thank you, my Lady." He said politely again, nodding his head in greeting. "And please, there is no need for such formalities, you may call me Thranduil."

The lady simply nodded her head somewhat uncomfortable, and he knew for sure that his request would be thoroughly ignored. At least he had tried. He could see Lasgaer shifting awkwardly on his feet, it seemed the respected warrior was at as much loss about this whole celebration as he himself was. Valar, he wanted to leave! A long second of silence settled between the three of them, and Thranduil understood this as his cue to do something, _anything_, before the situation could become any more uncomfortable or the silence any longer.

Slowly, he turned to face his escort once more, the guards still dutifully waiting on the back of their horses, remaining a proper distance behind him. The King of Mirkwood gracefully lifted his hand in a silent dismissal, watching as the group of guards bowed their heads wordlessly before turning around and marching back through the dense forest. Oh, Elbereth! How much he wanted to return with his guards! It had only been a couple of minutes since he had arrived and already he wanted to leave!

He turned again to face the warrior and his wife, both of whom were still silently standing before him, as if suddenly petrified to the soft green grass underneath their feet. In fact, he would have entirely believed they had turned into stone if it were not for Lasgaer's constant uncomfortable shifting. Both husband and wife were dressed in a rich emerald color – as it was customary for elves to wear green for summer solstice- Lady Laessel nearly dripping in jewels that were either sewn to her long formal dress of incrusted in her neat intricate braids. The warrior's hard green eyes kept looking at him expectantly, although not really meeting his eyes, and for a moment it seemed that both Lord and Lady had forgotten that _they_ were the ones hosting the celebration.

"May I come in?" He helped, his eyes looking in the direction of the neatly carved wooden door behind the two elves. The Lord and Lady seemed to wake up from a daze at his words, suddenly remembering to move and speak and his next few minutes were spent in rushed replies of "Of course, your Majesty, forgive me" and "Yes, my Lord, my apologies, this way please." Oh, he was going to kill Alarya! And why was she not here helping out? It appeared _very clear_ that she was the only one comfortable with this arrangement.

Inside the house, he was led to a large room, one that opened in at least four ample terraces, seeming to have no enclosing walls at all. He could see a medium sized table furnishing one side of the room –where the meal would be served not doubt- and some comfortable seats as well as a couch on the other side. The bottom steps of a cozy staircase curved up from one corner of the room, going up and up along the branches of an old majestic tree until they disappeared around a curve, making it impossible to see where they landed above. Six elves already filled the room, all of them in different shades of greens, from the darkest shades that resembled the sleeping forest underneath a black sky, to ones as pale as the new leaves blossoming at the end of the tree branches.

And that was when he saw her. She had her back to him, standing at one end of the room facing one of her cousins who seemed to be teasing her –although he knew not which one. Her long locks of golden hair flowed nearly weightlessly down her back in an intricate arrangement of braids that seemed to be made out pure gold. Tiny pearls adorned her entire head, and he was sure that to him, that simple tiny jewel had never before seemed so beautiful. She wore a long green dress, in the bright shade of summer leaves, the fine fabric falling weightlessly around her small, delicate body, pearls dripping from her bare shoulders and down her arms, seemed to be the thing composing the sleeves of her dress.

It was Alarya's cousin what gave him away, when his green eyes suddenly caught him standing some distance away and suddenly stopped whatever tale he was telling her. She turned around on the spot, her dazzling eyes dancing across the room before they fell on his. Bright emerald irises landed easily on his, all of the jewels in her hair and dress suddenly seeming to loose their splendor in comparison to the light shimmering inside her deep endless eyes. Just as every time he looked into them, they seemed impenetrable, impossible to read and at the same time welcoming, like the kind song of the grad forest outside, glistening with a playful sparkle that seemed to mock the entire world around her. And he knew the reason why he had agreed to come to this celebration in the first place.

Ever so elegantly, she walked in his direction, and he could not help but smile as wide grin lit up her entire face. Every single one of her moves seemed to be effortless, carrying an aura of authority that made her presence impossible to ignore wherever she went.

"You came!" She exclaimed in a soft voice as she reached the place where he stood, lacing one of her arms around his.

"I said I would." Was his answer, and it was proving to be very hard for him not to simple press his lips to hers in a kiss right then and there. He still did not know how it had happened, or when, but she had become the center of his existence, and she probably did not even know. Yes, she had had his attention since the first time he had met her, but mostly out of entertainment and curiosity, things that of course latter transformed into affection. But now he was sure that it was _not_ mere affection what he felt for her.

"Come, the meal will not be served until at least one more hour." She said in her usual casual tone, guiding him in the direction of the long couch in one corner of the room. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see the cousin Alarya had been talking too still looking at him rather stunned.

"You did not tell your family I was coming, I assume." He added in a low voice sat down beside him on the long couch, the pearls in her hair dancing with the slight movement. She smiled sheepishly in return.

"Of course I did." She sounded somewhat guilty and not entirely convincing as she spoke. "Both of my parents were very well aware that you would be joining us today."

Oh, she was smart. She was trying to sneak past his question only providing _half_ of the answer. As if he would not notice.

"I mean the _rest_ of your family."

Her smile now turned into a guilty apologetic grin, and although he had the inner urge to strangle her for putting him in this situation, he found that when she smiled like that, he simply could not be angry with her.

"Arya!" He protested, shaking his head slightly, not able to contain a defeated chuckle.

"I am sorry!" She whispered, the grin still present in her fair face, her eyes sparkling like those of a child doing mischief as her delicate hand rubbed his upper arm apologetically. "I forgot to mention it!"

"Wine, my Lord?"

He turned his head to find a servant offering him a glass filled with red wine. The servant's eyes looed at the floor as he spoke, his head bowed.

"Yes, thank you." He said as he accepted the glass. Wine, what a _splendid _idea at the moment. He needed it. He absently the servant left to offer wine to other elves conversing inside the room before his eyes returned to fall on Alarya's large green ones. She held a glass of white wine in her own delicate hands.

"You know, Thranduil, my father's biggest worry for the past week was that you would not like his wine." She said with a light laugh that once again made him want to wrap his arms around her small body and hold her close to him.

"Is that so?" He arched a fair eyebrow in return, not able to take his eyes away from her as she absently placed a lock of her golden hair behind her pointed ear.

"Yes." She added casually. The way she could speak so easily and freely and at the same time still look so elegant and regal, never ceased to amaze him. "So would you kindly remember to mention him at some point that the wine is good?"

He let his eyebrow arch even further. Oh, he felt like laughing now. After she had forgotten the _tiny_ request he had made her after accepting her invitation to _please_ not let his presence be a surprise for her family as to not make things more uncomfortable for any of them. And she was now asking _him_ to casually mention something in return. Then again he was not surprised coming form her. After all, she was the same elleth that had dared ask him his name in the middle of dinner at his own table. Of all bold things to do, she had asked his _name_, a thing she of course had known beforehand.

"What if I _forget_ to mention it?" He teased, knowing full well that he would comply with her request no matter what. Still, she did not yet know that.

"Thranduil, I said I was sorry!" She protested in a low voice, her pleading eyes looking apologetic but not even a bit regretful.

"I will be sorry as well." He added in return and she simply narrowed her eyes at him, although he could tell she was not really angry with him.

She made as if to stand, but he quickly and discretely grabbed her by the arm, gently but firmly pulling her back down to sit next to him, making sure that his hold on her was always tender, almost scared to hurt her delicate arm by pressing too hard on her soft skin.

"Oh, you are not leaving me here sitting by myself." He whispered as she reluctantly sank down beside him. "This was your idea after all."

To his slight amusement and annoyance he saw the edges of her mouth curving up into a smirk as her eyes openly seemed to mock him, and at the same the depths of her forest green eyes sparkled with a real smile.

"Fine." She complied, her voice echoing with feigned reluctance as she made herself comfortable on the couch. And just like that he knew she would stay by his side, a thought that suddenly made him feel more relaxed than ever since he had stepped foot outside his chambers earlier that day.

"But you will mention to my father that his wine is good." She insisted, taking a sip of her own white wine.

"Why should I?" He reminded her as he raised his eyebrow again, unable to contain a smile at her authoritative tone. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see two of Alarya's cousins throwing looks in his direction, as if trying to decide whether or not to approach, still looking stunned, as if they had lost all the courage they had. "You forgot my only request."

"Oh, Thranduil." She tried to plead with her eyes, but still he did not comply, merely taking a sip from his own wine before sitting back against the cushions.

"Very well." She suddenly said, her lips curving up in a playful smile that he immediately knew meant he could not trust. What was she planning now? "You casually let it slip that you like the wine, and once we get back to the Palace _I_ will stroke your hair for as long as you wish."

Oh, she knew just _how_ to manipulate him! He had to make an effort not to simply laugh in defeat. Oh, Valar, if only she knew what she could do to him. Her emerald eyes kept looking at him expectantly, sparkling almost victoriously. If only she knew that he would comply still comply with her request without really expecting anything in return. He would comply with _any_ of her requests, no matter how baffling they could be if it would simply made her smile. But then again, it was better if she did not know that just yet.

"And…?" He pressed, his eyebrow still raised.

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him, seeming to be considering whether or not to say what he wanted to hear. After what seemed like a long second she finally added. "And you may fall asleep while I do so."

"Agreed." He said almost immediately, fighting the urge to gently kiss her lips for what seemed like the thousandth time that day. A chorus of musical laughter escaped her lips in return, the sound she sweetest her ears had ever heard.

He did not get a chance to say anything else for at that moment, Lasgaer and his wife came to join them, taking the seats directly in front of them. He also noticed the warrior's brother, Agarben, and his wife, a beautiful dark haired lady he did not know the name of, coming to join them as well.

"Your Majesty." Said Agarben bowing hi head in greeting before taking a seat.

"Lord Agarben." He returned the greeting with a polite nod of the head, feeling the urge to yell at Alarya for simply _wonderful_ idea of having him come to her family's celebration. Oh, Valar, could she not tell how uncomfortable everyone seemed? Well, everyone except Alarya's mother. Yes, somehow all of her previous nerves seemed to have transformed into sheer delight, although he could not quite understand why.

Lasgaer's eyes kept glancing in his direction, looking away whenever he met his eyes, even though he still looked tall and powerful as the respected warrior of old times he was. It seemed that for a moment, Lasgaer was having trouble in deciding whether to behave as the master of the house and Alarya's father, or as the warrior loyal to his King. Thranduil could easily tell that the warrior did not quite know whether he should be imposing or submissive. Elbereth, Eru, Iluvatar, he wanted to leave!

"Thank you for your kind invitation, Lord Lasgaer." He broke the silence before the awkwardness could become obvious. Next to him, Alarya seemed as relaxed and delighted as her mother.

"My King is always welcome in my home." Replied the warrior politely. "I trust you had a pleasant journey here, my Lord?"

"I did indeed. You have a beautiful home, and your wine I dare say is very good." Was his answer, fighting back a smile as he felt Alarya discretely give his hand a small squeeze.

"Thank you." Thranduil heard her whisper without even moving her lips, the words so low he was sure no one else but him had caught them.

"I will hold you to your part of the deal." He replied in the same discrete tone. He could hear Lasgaer going on about the wine and explaining details of he house and he easily pretended to be fully listening. Out of the corner of his eyes he would still Alarya's three cousins sitting some distance away from them, still looking disbelieved, discretely peeking in his direction every two minutes, but not really daring to approach.

He did not know how long it was until finally Lady Laessel called for her guests to move towards the next room for the meal to start. Part of him felt relieved to be freed from this small, relatively forced conversations for a moment, and yet other part of him knew that he would be forced to keep them going at the table.

Alarya was nearly the first one on her feet, her dress twirling dreamily around her small frame as she nearly waltzed out of the room with her mother. Slowly, every elf in the house started to vacate the large sitting room, and he could hear the movement of chairs in the next room as they started to take their seats the table.

"May I have a word with you, my Lord?"

Lasgaer's voice caught him nearly by surprise just as he was rising to his feet, but he did not show it in his face. The sitting room was completely empty by now, he and the warrior being the only two elves remaining in the vast open space. The master of the house had also risen to his feet, politely standing in front of him, his head slightly bowed respectfully, and yet his silent green eyes stared at him with an unreadable expression.

"Of course." Was all he could say, unable to guess in which the direction would this conversation go. The noble warrior nodded his head in return, and Thranduil followed him in silence as he walked towards the only balcony in the ample room, under the shade of a magnificent old tree.

"First, allow me to properly thank you for you hospitality this past months." The warrior turned to face him as he spoke. "Laessel and I are very grateful to you for letting us stay at your Palace."

Thranduil waved off his thanks with a graceful movement of the hand. "No need for that."

Lasgaer bowed his head in reply, but chose to not continue with his thanking comments. Instead the warrior drove the conversation in a different direction.

"I know my daughter can be very insistent, your Majesty. I presume she is the one responsible for arranging this entire celebration." The warrior chuckled slightly as he spoke and for the first time that day Thranduil felt that he could relate to him. Lasgaer wanted celebration to be over just as much as he did, and just for a second, the situation seemed less uncomfortable.

"She can be quite insistent, yes." He agreed, waiting as the warrior turned once again to face him.

"Alarya is very strong willed….very stubborn- just as you, my Lord, if I may say." The warrior paused to let out another light laugh at his raised eyebrow. But then, his expression turned serious again, almost melancholic. "But she is my only daughter, and you must understand that I only want what is best for her. I do not doubt that your intentions towards her are but the best, and I did not get the chance to tell you just how grateful I am to you for going after her night the night of the storm."

Thranduil simply nodded his head patiently, not knowing what to say, but feeling that it was not his time to speak. He had known Lord Lasgaer for a long time. The elf had fought beside him and his own father during the Last Alliance, and was no stranger in the court. And yet, for the very first time in his life the warrior seemed more than simply a respected figure of his realm, for the first time his green eyes seemed friendly without having anything to do with his tittle of King.

"I simply want to know that you will continue to take care of her. After all she is the most precious thing I have."

Lasgaer's deep green eyes stared at his openly, honestly, and in that moment there was no King in the room, no loyal warrior, only two elves, two equals.

"I love Alarya." He did not even realized his words until he had said them. Finally, for the first time, those wards that had been floating inside his mind for the past month, haunting his dreams and consuming every single one of his thoughts, escaped his mouth with an ease he found hard to believe. He had not said that out loud before, and yet, as his own voice echoed in his ears he could not help but understand how much he meant them.

A small smile appeared on Lasgaer's face, his green eyes never leaving Thranduil's ice blue ones, and for the first time that day, the smile reached his eyes.

"Have you told her?" The warrior's eyes drifted out into the forest, the small smile never leaving his face, and for a second it seemed that the father's joy was draped in sorrow, but nonetheless it was joy.

"No." Thranduil said, feeling rather guilty for his answer. His word however, did not seem to make any change in the warrior's expression who simply nodded his head, still smiling sadly.

"My Lord Lasgaer." Thranduil started, causing the warrior to turn his head to look at him. He did not really form where he was getting the courage to finally ask for the only thing he had wanted for the past months. And yet, never before had he felt so sure in his long life. "I want to marry your daughter, if you would allow it."

Never before had he wanted anything as much as he wanted Alarya. He did not why, he could barely understand it, but what was there to understand? The only he could think of day and night was of her sweet song-like voice, her bell-like laughter that seem to float weightlessly in the air, her aura of elegance and authority even when she was in the most ridiculous of situations, her impossibly stubborn character, the way her large green eyes at times seemed to betray every single emotions as open as book and yet other times they were simply impossible to read, impenetrable, the way his name flowed easily out of her mouth.

Lasgaer looked at him for a moment, and then, slowly, his smile widened. He did not now whether or not the warrior had already suspected he would eventually ask for his daughter's hand.

"No elf in Arda will ever be good enough for my daughter. However, there is no other elf that could ever make her as happy as she will be with you. So yes, my Lord, you may have her hand and my blessings for whenever it is you choose to ask her to marry you."

Thranduil did not know what exactly he had been expecting to hear, and still the moment he heard his answer a wide smile drew on his face, unable to contain it any longer. He had never felt this kind of joy before. To his surprise, the warrior's eyes sparkled with a smile as wide as his, and for a second all sorrow and melancholy about giving away his daughter seemed to vanish from Lasgaer's eyes.

"My daughter, Queen of the Greenwood." The warrior muttered to himself, as if still not believing those words. Thrandiul did not know why, but hearing those words made him smile all over again. Then, Lasgaer turned again to look at him in the eyes, the wide smile still present on his face. "Who would have thought?"

The King of Mirkwood let out a chuckle. "I am still afraid she might not want that tittle."

The respected warrior laughed along, shaking his head slightly. "I know my daughter, and if that is what makes her your wife, then she will gladly take it."

A small smile appeared on Thranduil's face, the warrior's words serving to somehow reassure him.

"Besides." Lasgaer continued. "You will _never_ be bored with her. And you will most certainly have someone to argue with for the rest of eternity."

"We _have_ been arguing since we met."

That made he warrior laugh, all traces of pain and sorrow vanishing from his eyes as he simply looked elated now. "Come! This merits a celebration, and luckily for us, one is just about to start in the next room."

And just like that, the warrior placed a fatherly hand on his shoulder, guiding him to the large dinning room already full of chatting elves. No one asked about the King and warrior's sudden good mood, or about the previous wariness that had unexpectedly for everyone transformed into friendship. Lasgaer order for his best wine to be served, and everyone drank merrily, celebrating the summer's solstice, all of them oblivious to the small agreement that had taken place only seconds ago in the solitude of the balcony. All of them oblivious that in a little more that a year Mirkwood would finally have a Queen.

Here is chapter 9! Sorry for the wait! I hope you enjoy it and please let me now what you think!

Again thank you so much to those of you who reviewed my previous chapter, I can't tell you how much your comments have made my day and this chapter is specially for all of you! Paperlanterns86, SarahWeasley, Alatariel Oronar, Jibril-Kadamon, XxNaiXx, Nowa1, Eliwe-07, Mary Elrondile, wonderpanda10, Kirschflower, Martine9295, R2-D2106, AmazingWriter123, Wtiger5, .77, and xX-MissyMoo-Xx

Once again my apologies for I have fallen behind on my replies from both this and my other story, Replies to your reviews will be sent as soon as possible! In the meantime I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Love,

Elena


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